Sorry
by mollybugs
Summary: Hermione and Fred were broken apart by tragedy in the great wizard war. Years later, will a chance encounter in Diagon Alley save the love they once had? Maybe. First they have to move past the death that still haunts them both. AU to DH. Please R/R!
1. Chapter 1

She edged her way through the long walkway of Diagon Alley, trying painfully to block out the whispers and stares she was sure were directed toward her. _Three more stores,_ her mind whispered. She came to a stop in front of Flourish and Blott's, taking the doorknob in her shaking hand. She slowly turned the knob, struggling not to draw too much attention but finding it quite difficult to steady her trembling hand. As she reluctantly pushed the door into the shop, she stumbled. Staring her in the eye through the door window was a pair of brown eyes that had lost their humor years ago.

Fred Weasley stared in shock at the woman he faced. Catching his breath, he pulled the door open, the doorknob practically leaping from her hand. He stepped back, remembering the manners his beloved late mother had always emphasized. She hesitated, scared of what he might say. When no sound came from his direction, she stepped into the bookshop and looked up at the man she had loved.

"Fred. It's… been quite a while, hasn't it?" she began unsteadily. He regarded the fear and uncertainty in her eyes. Every wall of defense he had just erected nearly crumbled to fine dust when he looked into her doleful brown eyes. He took a deep breath and nodded. He didn't want to make her cry, but the cold, detached nod was more than enough to bring tears. He reached up and wiped away the few tears lining her eyes.

"How are you doing?" he asked. She sniffled softly and tilted her head downwards, avoiding his slightly warmed gaze.

"Getting by, I suppose," she mumbled. "And yourself?"

"I manage. Er… well, how's that cat of yours?" he asked, instantly regretting the question when he saw her shoulders drop.

"Crookshanks was run over by a car, actually. It's been a couple months now. Er… well, I suppose I ought to get going." She desperately wanted to escape from this conversation, for a sales clerk to appear and ask if they could help her. But there was nobody in sight, only a few customers either very engaged in their purchases or politely pretending not to notice the awkward exchange.

"I have more shopping to be done," she muttered, making a quick turn on her heel and heading for the door. Before Fred could stop her, she was out the door and walking briskly down Diagon Alley towards her next stop, Madam Malkin's. Fred jogged after her and pulled her away from the public's prying eyes and ears. "Please, I have to get some things," she pleaded, trying in vain to remove her arm from his grasp.

"Then why were you in the shop? You just accidentally wandered into the bookshop?"

"Fred, please, don't," she begged, her voice little more than a whisper.

"Don't? Don't what? After all this time you run into me and act like nothing happened and expect me to-"

"I'm sorry!" she screamed as she turned back to him, her voice full of raw pain and remorse. She began to push past him, but he did not budge. Stepping back, she hung her head. "I'm sorry for what happened that night, and I'm sorry for what I cost you," she spoke in a low, broken voice. "I've never stopped loving you, and to this day I cry myself to sleep every night. I know that I hurt you, and I know you hate me for what happened. I'm so sorry…" she trailed off, sinking further into herself.

He stared at her, unsure how to respond. He struggled to find the right words. They had never spoken like this before, never even talked about what had happened. He remembered the few moments in the Great Hall, before reality had sunk in. The sobs behind him as he walked away.

"I know. I know you're sorry," he paused, taking in the hope the suddenly lit her eyes. Those eyes had once been the only thing he looked forward to seeing. He began to speak, but stopped. He remembered the eyes he saw regularly now, the broken heart visible in his father's eyes. "For the past three years, my father has asked me why you never told us that Ginny was a Death Eater. I know that you knew. He asks me what happened to make my sister, his little girl, go astray. He asks me how I loved someone for so long, someone who couldn't even save his daughter." He sighed, blinking away a few stray tears.

"I have no answers for him. Because you didn't tell me when you found out Ginny's true loyalties. You knew why she joined them. And the third question, I can answer easily. But I don't. Because it would hurt him far too much. I loved you because you were innocent, radiant and so kind. You were the most beautiful woman I had ever met. I had so much faith in your strength, your goodness. You believed in stunning, and that was all. You had too kind of a heart to kill someone. I can't tell my father that I knew you would never make use of it when they began letting Aurors use the Killing Curse. I was wrong."

"The day Ginny died, everything I thought I knew about you vanished. I could no longer love you. You were a different person. I know you were trying to protect our future, but you should have known I couldn't have a future with someone who I couldn't trust. Someone who couldn't trust me.

"You could have Stunned her, cursed her, anything. But you chose the worst curse of them all," he paused in his tirade. Was this how he wanted to end this? Did he want to continue? The idea of leaving now, of letting it go, flitted across his mind. He turned and walked away. Standing at the mouth of the alley, he heard her begin to sob quietly.

"What really gets me is that you didn't even apologize when I confronted you about hiding her loyalties. You were sorry you killed her, and you were sorry that you didn't think twice, but you were never sorry for not telling me. I don't want your apologies. I want the woman I loved back, but that's not going to happen."

He took one last look at the love of his life and blinked. She was so small now, so broken and defeated. Her thin form registered in his mind as a sign that she wasn't taking care of herself. Her crumpled body, the way she curled into herself as she cried, meant that she really was no longer the strong woman he had fallen in love with. He could see this through the anger seething within him, but he refused to care. He was done with this woman who had broken his heart.

He Disapparated and met his brothers two minutes later when they would Apparate to the cemetery. They always visited her every month. He broke away from them for a few minutes, venturing into the forest to vent his anger before seeing his sister.

Hermione Granger was left crying on the ground, unaware of anything around her. Hours later, she Apparated into her flat only to find a letter from Ron Weasley telling her to leave his family alone. That if he ever found out she talked to his brother again, he would use all the Unforgivables without hesitation. Unable to handle anymore unforgiving hatred, she crawled into her bed fully dressed. _I'm sorry, Ginny,_ she thought. _I__'m sorry I couldn't save you from Voldemort. I'm sorry I couldn't save you in time to save both of us._

Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling.


	2. Chapter 2

_Hermione,_

_Fred tells me he ran into you in Diagon Alley today. Quite a shock that you're still even allowed to use magic after what you did to us. Don't ever try to speak to any of us again. We don't want your bloody apologies, and we don't care what you have to say. You're a murderer, killing my sister and leaving my mother to die of a broken heart. You've ruined our lives, so don't try to make them better with more lies. We all know you knew what you were doing. If you speak to my brother again, you will not live long to regret it._

_R. Weasley_

Hermione set the letter on her table and sighed. Pig was flitting around her ceiling waiting for a treat. The little owl certainly seemed to forgive her enough. He hooted as she gave him a nibble of a cracker and flew out the window. Hermione leaned out, watching him disappear in the sky.

Would they have treated Harry this way if he had been the one to kill her? Would they have forgiven Ginny if she had beaten Hermione to the punch? Hermione had rehashed that day innumerable times since then, wondering how she could have changed it, how it could have ended differently. Ginny was going to kill her. She had her wand ready and was forming the words on her lips. Would Ron have never spoken to Ginny again, if by some miracle she repented from her Death Eater ways and begged forgiveness for killing his best friend?

She pulled back and shut the window. Taking her cup of coffee into the living room, she curled up onto her couch and pulled a navy afghan over her body. Harry had forgiven her. Harry had known everything, and he had understood. It had taken him a couple weeks to get over the pain, but he had forgiven her. The Weasleys never would. They didn't want to understand. They didn't want to know why their sister had become so full of hate nor why she had betrayed them all.

Her funeral had been on a sunny day. Hermione remembered it all too well.

"_You aren't welcome here," George had said to her. His eyes were so full of hatred that it hurt her to look at him._

"_I just want to pay my respects to Ginny, George." She fought back tears, looking around him to see the entire Weasley clan watching her with those eyes. Harry stood back near Ron. She had hoped he would be her saving grace; that he would come to her side and fight for her right to be there. Instead his eyes were urging her to leave as he maintained a steady grip on Ron's arm._

She hadn't cried this much in two years. The memory of their anger, the flowers she had brought left on the ground, the gravelly voice as George threatened her to stay away. They were wounds that had never healed properly and were being reopened with a vengeance. She summoned the nearest bottle of liquor from her cabinet. Irish coffee would sooth her nerves if not put her to sleep for a bit. All she had wanted was to get some shopping done, to take care of long overdue errands.

After a bit of time had passed, and her body was warm with alcohol, she grabbed a quill and parchment.

_I never really got a chance to explain myself to you. All this time, I've lived with the regret of knowing I should have told you about Ginny. My hands had been tied then, and I was too cautious to break the rules. I would like to apologize to you, formally, and to explain to you what really happened. I don't deserve the chance, but I would greatly appreciate an opportunity to make amends, and to give you some sort of understanding of your daughter's final years. I hope you will hear me out. If you don't wish to hear from me again, I understand._

_H. Granger_

Before she could hesitate, she Flooed to the nearby Owlery, a post office of sorts for witches and wizards without their own owls. She paid the postman and tied her letter to a beautiful tawny owl. "Take this to Arthur Weasley," she told it.

Upon returning to her apartment, she realized she had nothing to do now. She was in no shape to back out and complete her shopping. She flopped onto her couch and let out a sigh of exasperation. Why had she even bothered writing to Arthur? The gravity of what she had done began to sink in. What on earth would she do if he was willing to listen to her? Not that he would, of course. None of them wanted to speak to her. Both Fred and Ron had been quite clear on that front.

She wished she could fly away from this. She was an Animagi, of course. She had become one as part of her Auror training. Being an owl made it easier to intercept communications between Death Eaters. But she hadn't flown in quite some time, and she knew that flying away wouldn't solve anything. She had tried, not too long after Ginny's death, to escape into her owl form and pretend as nothing had happened. But transforming into an animal didn't take away your emotions. Only a few days went by as an owl before she returned home and gave up on escape.

She resigned herself to a day of drinking on the couch. Self pity always came easier with drink in hand.

Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling.


	3. Chapter 3

The following week, she came home with Indian food in hand to find a tiny owl pecking at her window. She dropped the food on the coffee table and ran over to let Pig in. Five minutes later she had coaxed him down from the ceiling and managed to grab the small note attached to his leg. It was a short, handwritten note on familiar stationary.

_Hermione, please join me for dinner tomorrow at 6 o'clock. I would like to hear what you have to say._

_Arthur Weasley_

Hermione was flabbergasted. She never expected Arthur to hear her out. She didn't even expect a reply telling her to bugger off. She jotted out a quick confirmation that she would be there. A normal owl might have been annoyed by her shakiness, but Pig never noticed, constantly flapping his wings and hooting as if he had somewhere to be.

In a fog for the rest of the evening, Hermione barely remembered eating the chicken curry that was usually her favorite, showering and crawling into bed. At the very late hour of nine o'clock, Hermione was snuggled comfortably underneath layers of blankets, her wet hair resting on the pillow as she began to fall asleep. She had nothing better to do, so why bother staying awake any longer?

Thought of the next evening's dinner swirled around, the fear of facing Arthur keeping sleep at bay. What on earth was she going to say? _Just speak from your heart, Hermione. Tell him how you really feel._ That was what Ginny had said to her when she began working on her wedding vows. Funny that Ginny's advice would get her through this, when Ginny had gotten her into this.

* * *

The next day Hermione was not her usual self at work. Her usual self at work was quiet, focused on the task at hand, and not one for small talk. She would lock herself in her office, take care of what had to be done, and attend whatever meetings were scheduled that day. She offered the requisite amount of expertise when called upon in meetings, and never hesitated to provide the solution to a problem. Most of her peers saw her as a cold, impersonal drone that knew all the answers. She knew her subordinates thought she was incapable of emotion, but she also knew they knew nothing about her. She never bothered to correct them. She'd rather keep to herself. She'd be a good boss, and help them when they needed it, be understanding if they needed a day off, but scold them for poor performance; but she would not let them see that she was just as human as they were. It was better that they couldn't see under the cold exterior she wore at work. That was not the Hermione that arrived at work today.

"Granger, care to discuss?" Hermione's head jerked up at her name. She had been lost in thoughts of dinner tonight, trying to come up with a way to tell Arthur how she felt. What on earth should she be discussing? What was this meeting even about? A mental image of an office memo on her desk popped up. Meeting about… what on earth did that say? She couldn't even remember what she was supposed to work on today, let alone why she was even in this room.

"No sir, nothing to add." Kingsley Shacklebolt shook his head. He made a mental note to pull her aside later. While she wasn't an Auror in the field these days, Hermione Granger was still one of the greatest tactical minds on his team, and she didn't have anything to add about their new strategies for dealing with remaining Death Eaters and other lawbreakers? He found that hard to believe. A quick glance at Harry next to her confirmed that something was off. He was staring at his old partner with raised brows, clearly surprised by her response.

The meeting let out shortly after she had made a fool of herself, and Hermione was quick to retreat to her office. Best to avoid Kingsley and Harry for now, having no explanation to give them for her behavior. She found some forms that needed her signature. These would distract her. Twenty minutes later there was a stack of signed permits on her desk and not much else to do. This was usually when a member of her team would knock on the door with a question or request for some sort of approval, and she would spend a good half hour explaining some simple concept to them in layman's terms. She looked up, hoping that she could will someone to bring her work.

That didn't work. She ventured into the hall and looked around. Everyone was busy with desk work today. Nothing to do but wait. Unable to go back in her office to sit and fidget, she began wandering the hall to find something to do. Two of her newer Aurors, Johnson and Beck, were in the training room working on their spellwork. She tapped lightly on the door and entered without waiting for a response.

"Boss!" Beck yelled, not to greet her but rather to warn her partner of Hermione's presence. This might have offended Hermione if Johnson hadn't been prepared to fire a hex at the door. They thought Hermione was oblivious to the game they played, trying to catch each other off guard and winning points for whoever scored the most spells on one another any given day. She knew all about their game of hiding behind doors, setting booby-traps, and firing off small hexes at each other as surprises.

"Beck, Johnson," she greeted them. Now what? Why had she come in here? "How goes the practice?" They both mumbled something about it coming along well, seeming uncomfortable with her presence. "Well don't mind me, just observing for a bit. Carry on." It took the two a moment to regain their footing. The boss never stood in on their practices unless an evaluation had been mandated. Was this a surprise evaluation? They began casting again, aiming at targets that the other called out. It was a good practice routine, developing trust for your partner while keeping you on your toes.

After five minutes, Hermione left them with a few pointers on their wand skills and a feeling of confusion. The office gossip for the rest of the day would likely center around the possibility of secret evaluations and the boss's strange behavior. Hermione settled back into her office chair. Nothing was going to distract her today, it seemed.

A knock on her door proved otherwise.

"Harry, what can I do for you?" she asked, as her old friend poked his head in. She could hope as much as she wanted to that this was something work-related, but she knew better. Harry knew her better than anyone, and he knew that something was wrong.

"Well, for starters, I hoped you could tell me why you weren't paying attention this morning? Shacklebolt has worked on that plan with your for months, and you had nothing to say." He sat across from her in a presumptive manner; this explanation would take a while. Her eyes stayed glued to whatever lay on her desk. Why on earth did was she nervous? She didn't have to explain anything to Harry.

"No reason, I'm just a bit tired today. Feeling out of it, is all. I was going to go apologize to Kingsley later." Short and to the point. If she kept it simple, he might not catch on.

"That's bollocks. You are never tired, Hermione. I know for a fact that you go to sleep earlier than even children do. This is the Weasleys, isn't it?" That was it. Her head jerked up; Harry had hit the mark. "Look, I know you must be feeling down. Ron told me about your run-in with Fred. You can't let that get in the way here, you know that. "

"Oh, Ron told you, did he? I'm sure he had lovely things to say. I'll have you know this isn't about Fred, or Ron. It's just… it's nothing." She didn't want to talk about this, not here, not at work.

"Then it's Arthur? I know you're going there tonight. Do you need to talk about it?"

"How on earth do you know?" Wonderful, Harry knew what a fool she'd been. He may still be one of her closest friends—really her only friend now, but she didn't want him to know about this. She was hoping she could make her case to Arthur and be done with it all. She wanted to lash out at Harry, to tell him to mind his own damn business. But she couldn't, not while he was looking at her like she was an injured child. That was usually the look Harry gave her when he knew she wasn't doing well.

"Mr. Weasley Flooed me the other night and asked if I could keep Ron away from the Burrow tonight. He said he was having a guest for dinner and didn't want Ron to interrupt. I know the only person he'd ever want Ron to stay away from would be you, so I can only figure that you are going to the Burrow tonight. He didn't say so himself, but I didn't get to be second in command here by ignoring details."

Hermione didn't respond. Harry certainly wasn't dumb. She considered explaining everything to him, but thought maybe he should get a condensed version. It wasn't everyday that you tried to atone for killing someone's daughter over dinner. Would he even understand? He'd often urged her to try and rebuild her life, to move past the Weasleys. He had made his case with them to try and forgive her, but pressed her to have a life outside of grief and remorse in the event that they never came around. If he knew she was trying to gain Arthur's forgiveness again, he might try to discourage her.

"I'm just going to talk to him," she began. Screw it all, Harry was still her best friend, and he'd understand. Or try to, at the very best. "After running into Fred, I realized that none of them even understand me. They don't know my side of the story. Where I went wrong… I want him to understand me. I know that nothing's going to change, but… but I need to try." She looked in his eyes for some clue to his reaction, but years of training had finally given Harry some control over his emotions.

"Hermione, you know that he knows. I've told the Weasleys everything a million times over. Why are you going to rehash it all just to make yourself feel better? It won't work. It certainly hasn't in the past."

"Really, Harry? You've told them a million times over how it kills me every day not to be with Fred, not to have them as my family anymore? Have you really? I know you want me to move on. I wish that I was able to. All you ever did was telling them your side of things and that they should just forgive me. A lot of good that's done," she spat out. The hurtful tone of her voice didn't bother Harry when he knew she was right. "I just… I don't expect them to ever want me in their lives again. I've given up on that. But I need this closure. I need Arthur to at least have every detail he could possibly need to make an informed decision about forgiving me. If he hears me out and still refuses to forgive me, then so be it."

Harry didn't respond for a moment. He was probably thinking that she was foolish and trying to plan how to stop her from going to the Burrow, but she didn't care. The only thing that might stop her would be Ron showing up, but she knew Harry would never be so harsh as to make that happen. Harry tried his damndest to keep Ron as far from Hermione as possible. He usually didn't even mention if they spent time together. He would stick to safer subjects, like their work and his relationship with Katie.

"Before you came in here, I had no idea what I was doing. I didn't even know what I was going to say when I got to the Burrow. I even contemplated staying home. But Harry, I need to do this. I need to. I don't expect you to understand or even really care when I know you've already given up on it."

"Alright," he said finally. "That's fair. I just don't want you to get your hopes up or let yourself get hurt. You know I'll be here for you if it doesn't go the way you hope." Hermione grinned. They had been there for each other far too many times to count when they made ill-advised choices. Thank goodness for Harry. He was her last tie to her past that kept her going. She would be angry with him at times like today, when she wanted to blame him for the Weasleys not forgiving her. He may not know it, but despite everything he was the only thing that gave her hope that things would be better. Most days that hope wasn't there, but he had found happiness with Katie and become successful in their department, despite all that he had been through. Maybe she could do that too.

*

* * *

Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry convinced her to take the rest of the day off. Shacklebolt would understand if she needed a personal day, something she hadn't taken since before the war. "The last three years you've been in this office every day nine to five," he had said to her. "Kingsley will not mind if you tell him you need a day to clear your head. He wants you in the game, not with your head in the clouds." She thanked Harry and easily convinced her department head that all she needed was a day to regroup. Easy lies about stress and issues with her parents fell out of her mouth. Kingsley was no idiot, and knew she was lying. But he also knew it was better for the both of them right now if he pretended to believe her. Let her solve whatever problem she was facing, and he'd discuss it with her later.

After hours of anxiously pacing her apartment and fixing a dessert to bring, she threw on a casual outfit and Apparated to the front stoop of the Burrow. She was five minutes early. She began to feel panicky. Why be early? Why rush this whole evening? _Oh shut up, Hermione,_ she told herself, and knocked on the door.

Arthur Weasley hadn't expected to be overwhelmed by memories when he saw the woman on his front step. Three years had passed, and he thought he had put the past behind him. But he looked at the thin, sedate woman on his step, and it all rushed in. Ginny and Hermione giggling as the whispered and cast furtive glances at boys. Fred and Hermione covertly smiling at each other as they all sat around the living room talking. Hermione, Harry, and Ron all hugging at their graduation. Ginny announcing that she was dating a young man named Graham Pritchard, a former Slytherin working somewhere in Diagon Alley. Fred proposing to Hermione at the family's Christmas dinner. Hermione exiting Hogwarts, looking broken and lost. Her eyes, full of pain, as she was led away to the Mediwitch onsite. A man coming to inform them that Ginny was one of the Death Eater 'casualties'.

"I brought you a chocolate pie. It was your favorite, if I recall," she finally said, breaking the awkward silence that filled the space between them. Arthur broke from his reverie.

"Yes, of course, thank you," he stammered, taking the pie and leading her into the kitchen. He set the pie down and took her coat. With a flick of his wand it hung itself on the coat rack in the foyer. "Can I interest you in a drink, water, tea, anything stronger?" He summoned two Butterbeers from his fridge and popped them open. Hermione was hesitant to accept the drink. One drink wouldn't hurt. She was a grown woman, and could certainly control herself under the influence of one drink. Anymore and she might not be so sure.

"Arthur, thank you for having me here. I really am grateful that you even responded." She nervously sipped at her drink and found a seat at the table. The older man's shoulders seemed to tense for a moment. He had his back to her, gathering their dinner and setting the table as she watched.

"I must admit, I didn't really want to respond at first. That's why it took me a week to say anything. But please, let's eat first. I realize this must be as uncomfortable for you as it is for me, so maybe some dinner will relax our nerves a bit." Hermione agreed, and together they ate in silence, enjoying a simple meal of chicken and potatoes. Since losing his wife, Arthur had learned to take care of himself and prepare simple meals, but he had never strived to fill the void left by Molly's cooking. Basic sustenance worked well enough for him.

After the meal was over, they retired to the living room for tea. Hermione had no idea where to begin. Her thoughts began to gnaw at her as Arthur poured tea in to her mug and offered sugar and milk to accompany it. As she stirred in a couple cubes, she thought it might be easier to let him ask her questions, to provide some sort of prompt. But maybe then he wouldn't ask the right questions.

"Dinner was lovely," she said, biding her time. He made eye contact with her for the first time that evening as he sank into his chair. He took a sip of tea and set it on the table. He looked away and sighed softly, visibly unsure of what to say.

"No need to be formal, now, I suppose. Why don't you tell me what you wanted to tell me? I understand from your letter that you feel there are things I don't understand still. I'll admit, when I read it at first, I was livid. I couldn't grasp the concept that you had a side to the story. It's been easy for me to spend the past few years hating you for stealing away my Ginny, but I don't think I can do that without reason anymore. Hatred takes its toll on an old man's soul." He leaned into the chair and gestured for her to speak, as if making an apology for killing his daughter would just flow right out of her mouth.

"Arthur… first let me say that I regret never telling your family about the intelligence we had on Ginny. Both Harry and I feared that if we went against our orders and told you that everything would awry. You and Molly might try to intervene with Ginny, and the backlash from her cover being blown would have been disastrous. Now, I wish I had said to hell with orders.

I know you all know now that she became a Death Eater shortly after dating Graham, but that was only the surface of it. Ginny was one of the worst of them. Harry and I's team kept tabs on her for months, and I personally followed her much of the time. She was planning on delivering the entire Order to Voldermort on a platter. She had served as his spy in our ranks for over a year before we learned of her plan.

When Voldemort came to Hogwarts that day, he thought that we were unprepared. We had planted it into Ginny's mind that we would be off guard, that the Order would be relaxing their security and scattering its members on various missions. Just like we expected her to, she told him that it would be a perfect time to strike Hogwarts, when half of its guard was away. I know you were aware that we had planted the information, you were there that day after all. I should have told you that we had done so through Ginny.

You recall the madness once they came. I avoided killing Death Eaters if I could. I stunned them, and bound them, and I trapped them. Somehow I became cornered in a dead end, and I knew there were at least three Death Eaters following me. It was the hardest fight I've ever fought. I was outnumbered. I managed to fend off their spells, and eventually I incapacitated one of them. I grew more desperate as their spells grew more vicious. One of them fired off at least two Killing Curses that I managed to dodge, and the other tried repeatedly to land a Cruciatus curse on me. A cutting spell finally grazed my face, and I broke. Something inside me, a survival instinct, it just snapped. I fired off the Killing Curse and was going to do the same for the other Death Eater when they ran off. I had no idea who I was fighting until I removed the mask.

I think you know the rest of that day. I've regretted that day since. Every day I think of how I could have done it differently. I could have defied my orders and told you about her. I could have not been a hero and gotten myself cornered. I could have stunned her. I could have tried to stop her before that day. If I had known I was fighting her, I would have tried so much harder to stun her. I would give anything to go back and do it differently." She had begun to cry at some point. Even after three years, the memory of removing that white mask, finding her friend's face underneath it, it broke her heart. Arthur stood and began to pace the room. She was sure he would ask her to leave now, having heard what she had to say and not giving a damn at all. At least she could say she tried now, she had told him her side of the story.

He paused and glanced upward at the old family clock. A few hands for grandchildren and spouses had been added, but there were two noticeably absent hands. He stared at the clock for a long while before turning back to face her. His eyes were gleaming, shiny with unshed tears.

"Why? I can understand survival instinct, and I think I can forgive you for it in time, but why? Why was she there? Where did I go wrong as a father that my only daughter turned to the Dark Lord? How did she become that evil person who would kill her own family?" Hermione had figured he would ask her this, but it didn't make answering him any easier.

"I honestly wish that I knew. When we followed her, we looked for clues toward her incentives. We tried desperately to understand where her newfound hatred was coming from. My best guess was that Graham had brainwashed her, but too soon that proved to be untrue when she overtook him in rank and even sold him out to win more favor with Voldemort.

It wasn't until after the war that we had any idea, but by that point I couldn't have even told you if I'd tried. Sometime after her funeral, when George had effectively banned me from your lives, Harry and I paid a visit to Draco Malfoy in Azkaban. He was already feeling the effects of the Dementors, but he was still lucid enough to offer information.

_The little weasel has always hated Muggles and Mudbloods_, he told us. Apparently, the year that Ginny spent working in London gave her a strong distaste for Muggles. What she told Voldemort when she joined him was that she had been treated so badly by them that she felt they deserved to pay for it. Malfoy's guess, and mine, was that she initially regretted the decision, but hatred only breeds more hatred. It was just a matter of time before Ginny's hatred took on a life of its own. By the time we learned that she was one of them, she was so far gone. She wasn't even Ginny at that point. But she was a good enough actress to keep most of us fooled for a very long time."

Arthur settled back into his chair. More accurately, he was knocked back into his chair by the gravity of what Hermione had told him. He had thought it was so wonderful when Ginny took that job working in London. She worked in a Muggle restaurant for a year or so. _It'll give me a greater appreciation for my magic,_ she said to him when she was hired. _Besides, I want a distraction from this damn war._ What on earth could they have done to her in that year that made her hate them so much? When you got to the root of things, Muggles were just like wizards, sans magic. They were just people. He let out a cry and clasped his hand over his mouth. Had his little girl really just been so full of hate the whole time?

"I'm so sorry Arthur. I really wish I knew more about Ginny's decisions. Malfoy did speculate that maybe she was somehow… tainted by Voldemort's diary—that it might have left a small trace of his evil in her, but I don't know that there was any basis to that. I think he wanted to say anything to us that might shorten his sentence. Don't really know how you can shorten a life sentence, though. " She wiped the tears from her cheeks and looked at the man in the chair. Had she done the right thing telling him this? Would it have been better to be his scapegoat, to keep him from seeing his daughter has the evil she was? It can break a man's soul to realize that his child wasn't really his child anymore. He met her eyes and could see the questions in them.

"No, I'm grateful for you coming here tonight. Maybe I will never know who Ginny really was, or why she became so hateful. I suppose some mysteries are meant to remain a mystery. I still find it difficult to wrap my head around it all. Part of me wants to continue to blame you, but I know that I can't. I hope you'll forgive me for being so horrible to—" he was cut off by her arms wrapping themselves around him. It was uncharacteristic of Hermione these days to be so forward, but she couldn't help herself. She had wanted for so long for someone to understand her, to tell her it wasn't her fault.

"Forgive you? All I've ever wanted is your family's forgiveness. Just your understanding is enough to lift some weight from my shoulders," she said, loosening her arms from the sudden hug she had given him. "You've no idea how grateful I am for you even considering my side of the story. I just wanted you to know, to give you some sort of explanation for it all."

They continued to apologize to each other for a good ten minutes, before Arthur finally broke the cycle with offerings of more tea. Hermione leaned back into the couch, feeling relief like none she had ever felt. It was so freeing to know that Arthur might be able to really forgive her, that someone had heard her tale and was willing to accept it all as a fluke tragedy. Hermione's conscience had been locked in a battle during the war, torn between her responsibilities as an Auror and her loyalties to her family. Deep down she knew she couldn't have stopped it all if she tried, but the doubts had never left her.

As Arthur prepared more tea in the kitchen, she practiced breathing slowly to calm herself a bit. She could be at ease for now. Something was still missing from her life, and she was still broken inside. She felt now a small piece of her heart had fixed itself, but was still just one of many shattered parts. She might never make it into a whole again, if Fred would never forgive her and the rest of his family would continue to hate her. But she could find peace in this moment, knowing she had cleared the air with Arthur.

She looked up as she heard Arthur returning. Much to her surprise, a different redhead entered the room, a look of hurt and confusion clouding their face.

"What are you doing here?" Fred asked.

Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling.


	5. Chapter 5

"Fred, I…I'm sorry, I—"

"Hermione was my guest for dinner this evening, Fred," Arthur cut her off as he returned with their tea. He handed a cup to Hermione, which she cautiously accepted. Her fight or flight response was telling her to flee the scene immediately. She thought about just Apparating home at the very sight of Fred.

"Your guest? What the hell, Dad? You told me you were having a friend from work over, and I find you here having tea with _her_ like it's normal?" Fred was livid, and it showed in his face. The eyes that Hermione loved were dark with anger, shadowed by a furrowed brow.

"I asked Hermione here tonight to offer her a chance to tell me her side of things. It's been too long. Everyone deserves to make a case for themselves. I think it's long overdue to give Hermione that chance." Hermione wanted to leave so terribly. She knew this wouldn't end well. When Weasleys had a row, they put warring countries to shame. Wanting desperately to escape, she muttered apologies and thanks to Arthur and Disapparated.

The yelling only got worse once she left. Fred accused his father of turning his back on him, while Arthur demanded that Fred start acting like a man again. There were bitter words, but in the end, Fred was left downhearted and confused. His father made it clear that he wasn't going to keep on living in hate and sadness, and that Fred should think about doing the same. Forgetting why he'd even gone home that evening, he went back to his flat to wonder if maybe his dad was right. Maybe it was time to move past it all. The raw hurt in his heart told him otherwise. He didn't know that he ever could get past Hermione's betrayal, even if he knew it was better to forgive.

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Safe in her own flat, Hermione began to feel panicky. Her breath sped up as she began to pace back and forth in her kitchen. Arthur had guaranteed her that none of his sons would show up that night, and the very one she couldn't bear to see had walked right in. She grasped at her shirt, trying to free her pounding heart. Why had Fred been there? His eyes had been so empty when he saw her, but still they took their toll on her heart. Since the day she fell for him, his eyes could knock her off her feet and take her breath away. It had been the life and joy that had shone through that got her. Now they were so empty of happiness they shook her to her core. She had done that. Taken the joy from those eyes.

Before she could really lose control of her body, she grabbed the nearest liquor from her cabinet and poured herself a drink. A little drink would soothe her nerves and calm her down. A little drink was gone in seconds, and another took its place. As she paced the room she rang up a higher tally of just another drink. Before Hermione realized it, she was piss drunk. She hadn't been this drunk in a good while. Her nerves were certainly calmed by this point, and she curled into a ball on her sofa. She had given up this feeling over a year ago, the void of awareness created by a warm buzz. Sure she had continued to help herself to one drink every so often, but she had taken back her life from drinking.

She wondered why she'd even done that. It was such a good place that she was in. Her body was warm and sluggish, glued to the sofa and relaxed more than it had been in a year. Her mind was numb to the panic that had brought her home. The memory of broken-hearted eyes had faded with every sip of her drink. In this moment she was safe, she was soothed. Why on earth had she given this up?

Something in the back of her mind was trying to remind her, trying to remember how Harry had found her at the Leaky Cauldron one evening, pissed out of her mind and unable to walk. Yes, that was what happened. Harry had become concerned when Hermione wasn't home in bed at nine o'clock like she usually was and had gone in search of her. A couple of locating spells later and he came across her barely hanging on to her bar stool and clutching what must have been her tenth drink of Firewhisky. He'd been a good friend. He took her home, got her into bed, and stayed the night with her. He was never judgmental, but it was clear to him that this was not the first time Hermione had ended her night in the Cauldron. Far from it, if what Tom had told him was true.

_Stupid Harry_, she thought. Why did he have to ruin a good thing? She'd been at the Cauldron almost every night for three months before he had discovered her. Making her pain disappear for a night before stumbling home to her flat, conveniently a few blocks away from that part of London. She wasn't a stupid drunk, certainly not. She never tried to Apparate. That led to splinching, of course. Many nights she'd Floo home if she was certain she could handle being tossed about without losing her dinner.

In this moment she missed the pub, and its regular inhabitants, all of whom shared in her silent misery of having problems only the liquor could take away. Even if it was just until the next morning.

It wasn't long after meeting the couch that Hermione was passed out for good. She slept a dreamless sleep. It was lucky she feel asleep on the couch, where the sunlight would fall directly on her face in the morning. Just in time to shower, down a quick hangover remedy, and Apparate to work. She was back to her usual cold, automaton self in the office the next day. A brief meeting in Shacklebolt's office to discuss what she hadn't said the day before, some training routines with her team, and other various routine work filled her day. Harry tried to get a word in, but she keenly avoided being alone in a room with him the whole day. She'd really rather he just forgot everything and didn't mention what had turned into such a fiasco the night before. Surely he'd hear the Ron version of the story soon anyway.

She returned to her apartment as soon as the workday ended. As silly as it seemed, she had covertly snuck out of her office while Harry was in a meeting with some of his subordinates. She changed into a more comfortable outfit of jeans and a sweater and left. She Flooed to the Owlery and sent Harry a brief note apologizing for dodging him at work. Things went well enough, the note read, but she was rather tired so she was retiring early tonight. Hopefully that would deter him from popping in to check up on her.

She felt rather foolish going through all this trouble for a drink. She Apparated to the alleyway behind the Leaky Cauldron and went in.

"I hope you're here for a glass of water or to use the loo, lovely," Tom called out from the other end of the bar. Hermione had always suspected that he'd had a part in Harry suddenly taking an interest in her whereabouts at nine o'clock in the evening. Hermione would never have guessed when she came here for the first time at thirteen that she'd someday spill her soul on a nightly basis to the older, often curmudgeonly barkeep. He never turned her away, knowing that she would have gone to a Muggle pub where the likelihood of being hurt or even abducted was much greater. For three months he'd listened to her cry over the loss of her great love, her best friend. She'd show up shortly after work, dressed discretely. She may have been trying to drink her problems away, but she still had the pride of a Gryffindor inside. If word got out that the once great Hermione Granger, First Order of Merlin, poster child of the Ministry and best mate to the Boy Who Lived Twice, was a broken-hearted drunkard… She'd never have recovered. It was a well known unwritten rule that what happened in this pub never left. People could do their dirty dealings, escape their woes for a night, be someone else within these walls, and nobody would know, not unless they wanted it to be known.

"Don't look at me that way, you old git," she muttered. "Give me a pint." She tried to avoid eye contact with the old man. He waited a moment before pouring her drink. Her head was hung, eyes sunken, waist smaller than it'd ever been. One drink wouldn't kill the girl. She was even less of the shadow of herself she'd been a year ago. Tom remembered a constantly slimmer figure, dirty nails that showed a disregard for her hygiene, and a softened, broken voice. The voice was just as weak, and he was certain she fit into the category of 'waif' now. Her nails were cleaner, but looked as if she ate fingernails for breakfast daily. He knew what had happened to this girl, but he'd never understand it. He dared the bastards who'd broken her to try and patronize his pub again, sending her back in here to drink them out of her head for a second time.

"Alright dear, tell me why you're here. I know that look, that 'I just had my heart stomped on by the same man' face. Blimey, you look like you haven't eaten a bite since I last saw you," he lamented, setting the pint in front of her. She looked up and he saw that the hope that had been there last, that faint glimmer behind her eyes that it might one day get better, had faded significantly.

"I don't really feel much like chatting, Tom. It's been a rough week. I'm just going to enjoy this frosty drink by my lonesome for tonight, if you don't mind." The old man muttered something about enabling poor souls as he wandered to another customer at the end of the bar. Enjoy her drink was certainly not what Hermione would do, but he wasn't going to push her.

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**Author's Note – Some of you have put this on your story alerts. I am glad you like it! I hope you will review and let me know what you're thinking! New chapters will be posted fairly regularly.**

Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling.


	6. Chapter 6

Two months passed without any deviation from Hermione's routine. Every day she made an effort to mention calling it an early night in Harry's vicinity, popped home for a quick change, and then made her way to the Leaky Cauldron. Tom would lament her return but serve her nonetheless. Despite being a surprisingly caring old man, he was still a bartender and would serve if asked to serve. Hermione, with all the best intentions, would promise herself it'd be only a few drinks, then only a few more, and by the time she made her way home she was too far gone to even know how many she'd had.

The weekends were the worst of her days. During the week she'd pass out on the couch and use the sun as her alarm, always waking with enough time to clean up, recover and arrive at work looking professional and cleaned up. She'd make excuses to Harry about her weekends, saying she was going to visit her parents or had plans for Muggle arts classes and catching up on reading she'd lagged on. The reality was far from it. Saturday mornings she'd wake up with her face on the floor. Occasionally she'd end the night at the couch, or make it all the way to her bed, and once even passed out in the bathtub. She'd spend the day sipping on Irish coffee and moping about in a baggy old sweater and leggings. She often wouldn't shower until Monday morning just before popping into work.

Arthur had owled her shortly after his row with Fred to apologize for the catastrophe and asking for her to please keep in touch. They'd exchange owls every so often, usually carrying short letters about their emotions. Hermione's were often filled with lies about her daily life. She'd tell him how wonderful work was going for her, how she had grand plans to renovate her flat, and how she was feeling so much better having spoken to him. She refrained from replying to any letter while intoxicated, keeping hidden from sight once the alcohol flowed through her blood. She'd missed her nightly visits to the Cauldron only three times to have dinner with him during those months. She never went back to the Burrow. They'd meet in Muggle London and try a restaurant that Arthur had read about in some Muggle publication called Zagat. If Hermione recalled from her parents, it was a rating system for eateries that one could refer to help choose a place to go. She usually just based her knowledge of Muggle dining places on the takeout menus pitched under her door on a regular basis.

She'd never let on to him that there was anything off in her life. Being a functional drunk turned you into a decent actress. If she could lie to Harry and lead him on thinking she was getting by, then she could certainly fool Arthur Weasley. So far he did not seem to suspect anything, so she continued on her path of hazy drunken nights as she so pleased.

By the third month, Hermione knew every picture, every Prophet article, every wizard that waved down at her from the Cauldron's walls. It wasn't until one Friday night, when she was only three or four drinks in, that she noticed Tom had redecorated. Everything had moved itself around, and pictures that had been to her left were now to her right. She glanced around the room, finding the familiar portraits of famous wizards in their new homes. Gilderoy Lockhart waved down from behind her now, when he'd once been behind the bar. Cornelius Fudge was over by the stairs now, and Gwynog Jones was by the door. She wondered that maybe after years of the same arrangement Tom had gotten a bit bored.

Returning her focus to her beverage, she raised the glass to her lips. She nearly spit out the Firewhisky pouring into her mouth as she saw what rested on the wall in front of her. That damn photo. That damn article. Had Tom known he was setting that right in front of her usual seat? He couldn't have done that intentionally. He wanted her to stop coming here, but he certainly wasn't cruel about it.

In a small cherry frame was an article from the Daily Prophet dated May 17, 2001. In bold letters it heralded the fall of the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters. All out battle claims the lives of many, including Voldemort himself. It marked the first time his name was ever printed in the Prophet, a show of confidence for its readers that it was truly over, and the darkest wizard of their time was really dead for good. Hermione had declined comment for the author, some up and coming writer who had made it to Hogwarts in time for the aftermath. She recalled hearing he'd gone on to be the next editor -in-chief, but could have been mistaken.

Four familiar faces were waving down at her. They were moving a bit quickly for her slow, drunken eyes, but she knew them well enough to not have to make out their details. Harry Potter's arm was slung around Ron Weasley's shoulder, who was clapping his hand on the back of his brother George. Next to him Fred Weasley had an empty smile, looking victorious on the surface, but she knew better. She knew that moment all too well. It was the moment just after she'd told him that Ginny was gone, and just before he broke the news to the rest of his family. They were smiling victorious, weary smiles at her, all clearly glad to be done with it all and in need of a long night or five's sleep.

She passed out on her couch that evening having spent the rest of the evening staring into the weary and joyless eyes of Fred Weasley's photographic image. He was smiling his best for a man who'd just learned his fiancée had killed his sister.

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**Author's Note: Hope to see some reviews! And I hope anyone reading this is enjoying reading the story!**

Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling.


	7. Chapter 7

For the next week she stared into those eyes and drank until she didn't know whose eyes they were, or could at least pretend not to know. If Tom ever realized what a catalyst he'd placed in front of her, that he'd opened the doorway to ruining her mind for good, he never let on. To him it was a harmless move, placing the most famous framed article in his bar front and center for all patrons to see. Every other customer of his would comment on the article's inspiring message. Such a great reminder that we're in better times now, one gent had said to him just last week. That was a great day for our world, his wife followed.

None noticed Hermione's eyes fixated on the photograph, following the movements of the photographic men as they celebrated through their exhaustion. By Friday evening she could recite that article from memory, if she hadn't been killing her memory with whisky. Most evenings she was down for the count by ten o'clock, and somehow found her way back to her flat.

That Friday, she must have had at least three more drinks than usual. You could have told her that Divination was an essential part of every wizarding student's education, and she'd have agreed whole-heartedly. She'd have believed anything at that point, since she didn't know her left from right. How she managed to walk out of that pub was beyond her grasp the next morning.

The Firewhisky burned as she gulped down her last drink and stood to leave. It always burned, but that never deterred her. She wanted to drink until she didn't even know who Fred Weasley was, and by now she'd almost found that point. But a last glance at that damned photo proved she hadn't. She might have tried to get there, but Tom had finally cut her off.

"Go home, my girl. You don't need to hurt yourself any more tonight." He spoke gently, his voice void of any judgment. Of all the broken, hurting souls he'd seen in his pub, he'd never seen any like her. Maybe it was time for him to get in touch with the Potter boy again. When he'd intervened Hermione had kept away from his pub for a whole year. She was further gone then she'd ever been. He'd seen men and women drink with purpose before. He knew she was reaching for a place she'd never reach, not without dying.

"Miles, do me a favor and get this young lady home safely. She's not far from here. Don't need her splinching anything off tonight," he called to a younger black-haired bloke he beckoned from a table. Hermione shook her shoulders as if Miles had already gotten a leading grip on her and stumbled with purpose toward the door. She walked out, muttering about no home, no magic.

She'd originally bought her flat to be close to the wizarding world while maintaining touch with her Muggle roots. After the war, she would try to pretend that Diagon Alley wasn't just down the road. Eventually she'd begun to take comfort in her proximity to the magical world again. Tonight, she'd rather have lived across England than be near this place.

Cars whizzed by her as her feet somehow carried her down the sidewalk. A few of them were full of young blokes who whistled, cat-called and made rude suggestions of things they could do together. Had she had her wits about her, she might have been indignant at the thought. The last car caught her as she tried to remove the heels she'd worn. The whistles caught her off guard and ruined her already precarious balance.

"Fuck!" she yelled, tumbling into the nearest obstacle—which was unfortunately the pole of a street sign. She clutched her shoulder as if she felt pain there, but really she was far beyond feeling anything at this point. "What the fuck am I doing here?" she screamed at the sign that directed her to turn right if she wanted to reach the underground. Not only pissed but pissed off, she yanked her other heel off her right foot and started off toward her flat. Marching with purpose, she couldn't give two fucks if she stepped on something. She'd heal it later.

Ten years later, or so it seemed, she had gotten one block closer to her house. Granted, she was taking herself on quite a jagged path filled with much tripping and stumbling to the other side of the sidewalk. Why was she even walking through London at this hour, whatever hour that it was? Where was she even trying to be in such a zigzag rush? She kept on for another minute before finding what had to be the most inviting bench in all of London. She hurried to sit on one end and kicked her feet out. A few moments rest, to catch her breath and regain some energy and she'd be on her way again. Maybe she'd even sober up and remember how to get home in that time.

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It wasn't every night that George Weasley cut through the Leaky Cauldron on his way home. It was only the only the good nights, when he was leaving after a great business day and wasn't ready to for the day to end. He lived with Angelina in a cozy flat on the other side of London. They'd found an area heavily populated with Wizarding folk and made a comfortable home from the store's proceeds. He had promised her that once they were a bit more comfortable he'd build them a house wherever she chose, a house big enough for a whole herd of children if she so wished.

Most nights he Apparated directly to their flat from his office in the shop, but business had been extremely good today. He wanted to enjoy the crisp October air and relish in the comfort of a booming business for a while. He smiled at Tom as he passed through the pub, too pleased with himself to notice the peculiar angry glare the barkeep gave him. Stepping out onto the street, he took a deep breath of autumn air. It was perfect for the long walk through the city. If he got tired he might take some Muggle transportation. His father had always gotten a kick out of the tube and passed a bit of that enjoyment onto George.

He'd been strolling leisurely down the sidewalk for ten minutes when he came across an unusual sight. Some little Muggle bird had fallen asleep on a bench. George chuckled to himself and approached the sleeping form. This was just far too amusing to handle! How long had this silly girl been lying here? From what he could see of the set of uncomfortable high-heeled shoes dangling from her hand, she must have been having a night on the town. He had to get a good look at her. Wait until he told Angelina about this. Oh the things his wife would say! He leaned on the back of the bench and peered over to get a glimpse of her face.

"Hermione?" he started. He could barely speak. What on earth was she doing here? "Hermione!" Still nothing. She didn't even stir. He shook his head in disbelief. What were the chances? Really, of all the nights he had to choose to walk home. Well, this wasn't his problem. Hermione Granger was certainly a capable witch, and if she chose to sleep on Muggle benches… well, that was her prerogative. He turned on his heel and continued home. He made it only ten steps before a nagging sensation held him back from continuing. His mother had raised him to be a good man. And good men did not leave drunk, defenseless women sleeping on public benches, no matter their history with them.

Quickly he returned to her sleeping form and lifted her into her arms. She felt light in his arms, nothing like the healthy girl he used to toss around and play wrestle with in his brother's apartment. He looked down at the body in his arms and took in her shrunken frame. What had happened to this woman? Had they done this to her? Glumly, he Disapparated. He hoped she at least lived in the same place. It'd be a shame to Apparate her into a stranger's home.

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It wasn't the pounding headache nor the urge to vomit that woke Hermione. She'd slept through worse hangovers. Something in her house smelled. It was a faint odor, somewhat reminiscent of… grass? Has someone mowed a lawn in her flat? She must have left a window open. But there weren't lawns outside her window. Where on earth was that coming from? It was quite strong.

Her body had no desire to move from the bed, but her curiosity was too great. She was still in her outfit from the night before, heels still clutched in her left hand. Tossing the shoes away, she staggered through her flat, following the scent as it got stronger. She had to be hallucinating. There on her table was her cauldron, a steady steam rising from it. She approached it cautiously. It was generally good practice to be wary of mysteriously steaming cauldrons that just appear in your kitchen overnight. A deep green liquid was simmering in it. Had she been making potions in her blacked out state? That was new, even for her. She'd redecorated her apartment one particularly bad night, but never had she resorted to magic.

"Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes Piss-Off Home Brew. Best hangover cure on the market." Hermione whirled around. She knew that voice, but the room started spinning too quickly for her to process anymore. Bracing herself against the wall, she paused until she could look up.

"George," she groaned, her voice hoarse. Where had he come from from? Why on earth was George Weasley in her apartment? Without speaking he gently guided her to a kitchen chair and placed a glass of the potion in front of her.

"Drink this. It'll take hold in a few minutes. You'll feel much better, trust me." He began placing the rest of the potion in a flask…flask? She didn't have flasks. Where had that come from? She followed his instructions and drank down what tasted like pureed grass and…vanilla ice cream? What a strange combination. Oddly enough, it wasn't disgusting. Not pleasant, but not terrible. "I know, it's not the best tasting concoction, but it certainly gets the job done. Angelina and I keep it well stocked in our flat."

A few moments of awkward silence later, Hermione noticed her headache ebbing and her stomach ceasing its rumbling. Clarity began to take over. She really was sitting in her kitchen across from George Weasley. She tried to search her memory for a reason why, but there was nothing. Things got fuzzy shortly after she arrived at the Cauldron. Perhaps she could will him to disappear? Pretend this wasn't happening?

"I found you on a bench in London," he said, recognizing Hermione's infamous look of perplexity. "I wanted to be sure you were alright so I slept on your sofa. You're fine, I see, so I suppose I'll get home now." Hermione stared in awe as he stood and walked into the living room. Words failed her as she watched him slip his arms into his coat sleeves. Embarrassment was washing over her. Very vague memories of a bench floated about in her head. He had found her drunkenly passed out in the middle of London. Seen the disheveled state of her home. How he'd even found any ingredients for this potion in her bare kitchen was beyond her.

"George, I… look, I don't—I don't usually sleep on benches in London. I'm very grateful for you bringing me home. Please don't—"

"Judge you? Don't worry. If I were going to judge you for anything, it wouldn't be for turning into a lush after the life you've had." She wanted to jump in, to tell him she was no drunk, but she knew it was a lie. He straightened his coat out and was ready to leave.

"Please don't tell Fred," she spat out before he could disappear. George froze. She was supposed to be one of the smartest witches alive. She was going to be his sister-in-law once upon a time. And she still didn't get anything.

"Do you think I'd rub one of my brother's greatest regrets in his face like that? It would kill him to know you aren't doing well. Goodness, look at you. You're a waif and a drunk. Do you even eat anymore? Why on earth would I remind him that you're still human, that you're hurting from all this too? It's easier if…" he trailed off, seeing that Hermione was shaken by his words. He shouldn't go on. But he was already going.

"Listen to me. Leaving you, staying away from you, it hasn't been easy for Fred. But he made the decision to make you the bad guy in this, to blame you for things going wrong. All of us, we needed someone to hate, someone to be at fault. If I remind Fred that you hurt from this just as much as he does, that it's broken you like it's broken him, it will only hurt him more."

Hermione wanted to scream, to lash out, to cry. Why was he telling her this? She knew she was their scapegoat, she knew they didn't want to see her as human. She began to shake, filled with a desperate angry need to understand. She was shivering from the shock of his words.

"Hermione, I'm sorry," he said, aware that he was upsetting her more. "Angelina and I, we forgave you a good while ago. I can't live with so much hate in my heart. But Fred, he's broken. He's on a sad, angry path that he can't part from. He doesn't know how to not blame you anymore. Seeing you the other day, it really crushed him. He doesn't want to hate you, but he can't help it at this point. I won't say a word to him. He still loves you, and misses you. He just doesn't know how to deal with that."

With that he Disapparated. He had a pregnant wife at home who'd want an explanation for his absence that night.

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**Author's note: Hi readers! I am happy that so many people like this enough to get alerts when I update. I would really love some reviews! So far I've got one, and I appreciate it a lot! I will tell you now that I actually am done with this story and have written the whole thing. However, I would love to know what people think of it so I can see if I need to tweak things and know what you like about it! So please tell me what you think so far! Thanks!**

Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: Here it is, chapter 8! Loveheartx, I really appreciate the reviews. I'm gonna continue to post pretty regularly as long as real-world stuff doesn't get in the way, but I don't know how long that will keep up if all of you that have this story on your alerts won't tell me what you think! I'd really love some reviews telling me what you're thinking about this story! Without further ado, here you go!**

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**_Ch 8_

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Hermione crumbled to the floor, unable to process what was happening. Had he said that Fred still loved her? It made no sense. If he wanted to move past his hatred for her, why couldn't he? Why was it so hard to leave behind past anger?

She managed to pull herself from the floor after an indiscriminate amount of time spent with her face pressed to her kitchen floor, frozen as she tried to process the morning. Now what was she to do? Make a breakfast? Her kitchen was underused, after all. Even if she wanted to cook for herself, she doubted she had anything to make in her stores. She hadn't shopped for groceries in a long time. The most she'd purchase was some fruit and prepackaged meals from the corner store on her way home from picking up dinner. Most Saturdays she wasn't even awake now. She looked for her clock. When was now? Nine o'clock? She hadn't been up this early on a Saturday in forever. Usually she slept until at least two in the afternoon and spent the rest of the day .

Going back to bed was always an option. After the past couple of years of sleeping so much, by now it should be a cakewalk. Shimmying out of her pants as she climbed into bed, she kicked them away and stripped off her shirt, leaving her to sleep in her skivvies. Her stomach rumbled in protest as she nestled into the sheets; clearly it was in favor of the breakfast idea. Twenty minutes of the perfunctory trying-to-sleep routine passed. She shifted her weight from one side to another. She fluffed the pillow and re-nestled into her comforter. She even tried the old trick of counting sheep that her mum had taught her as a child.

Bollocks. This was not working. Exasperated and not tired at all, Hermione threw off her covers and sat up. What in the name of Merlin was in that potion? Thinking back on her past experiences with hangover potions, she groaned. Naturally, most contained some sort of energy component to help make you feel functional again. So sleep was out of the picture. Well, at least a shower would do her some good. She could feel the grime of the pub all over her skin, and sleeping on city benches probably did not do wonders for your hygiene.

Minutes later hot water cascaded through her hair and over her skin. It had been a long time since Hermione had taken a shower for more than ten minutes, one that wasn't for the sole purpose of being clean enough for work. She'd let herself forget how wonderful the massage of shampooing felt, how relaxing it was to let the water course over you. Inhaling the crisp aroma of whatever body wash she'd found at the store—something with 'energizing' citrus scents perfect for waking up a sleepy, hung-over brain—she was glad she'd charmed her water heater to last forever when she'd moved in. It hadn't really come in handy until today. Once the conditioner had rinsed out of her hair, she stayed underneath the stream, completely relaxing and sinking into the heat of the water. For a good half hour or so, nothing crossed her mind but the feeling of the beat of the shower against her head and the warmth of her body.

Eventually she lost her balance and fell out of her relaxed stance. Finally aware of the world again, she stepped out of the shower. Her entire bathroom was a steam room. If she stuck her hand out it might disappear from her sight. The cold blast of room temperature as she exited the bathroom was quite a jolt. But her body remained warm, and she was comfortable. There was certainly nothing quite like the feeling of washing away a night of indiscretion and terrible decisions.

Her bedroom clock read 10:36. An hour-long shower? Well, it was a good thing her water bill was predetermined and fixed into her rent. She lay still for twenty minutes, enjoying the complete physical relaxation she was feeling. Slowly she brought herself around to the notion of getting up and finding clothes for the day. How she was supposed to find anything clean and wearable in the messy piles that lined her walls was beyond her. She began to fish out some clean jeans and a comfortable sweater when it hit her. George had seen how she was living. Her apartment really was a disaster, lined with laundry, shoes strewn about, dishes on her coffee table, mail piling up everywhere. It had been a long while since Hermione had cleaned up beyond the bare minimum.

With a quick swish of her wand she had a clean outfit ready to wear. After quickly donning the jeans and a brown camisole under a cozy cream sweater, she threw some hair product in and pulled her hair out of her face into a messy bun. She'd worry about appearances if she decided to leave. For a moment the daunting task of actually _cleaning_ her flat was too much to handle. Where the hell did she start?

She quickly admonished herself for even considering giving up already. She was the top witch of her year and had helped to take down the darkest wizard of all time, but she couldn't clean up a damned apartment? It didn't even require that much physical effort, for crying out loud. She set her sights on the laundry. Sorting it as she waved it from the floor to her hamper, she marveled at how many clothes she actually owned. Half of this stuff probably hadn't been worn in months.

A load of laundry began in the hall as she passed by to take care of dishes. With just a few flicks and swishes of her wand, dishes were loading themselves into the washer, the post was quickly sorting itself at her desk, and the duster was making its way around the room. She returned to the bedroom and sent the multitude of loose shoes from their place on the floor to the appropriate shelf in her closet. As she watched her favorite pair of black heels, comfortable but still cute, set themselves down, a scarlet box with gold swirls caught her eye. Tucked into the corner of the top shelf of her closet, it was barely visible under the pile of blankets that had begun next to it but eventually fallen over.

All thoughts of cleaning vanished as she approached the closet. It was as if a tether had formed, allowing this small box to draw her into the closet. In most cases this might be the point when your brain warned you that it was a trap. Regardless of any alarms going off Hermione reached up and pulled the box off the shelf, careful not to let the blankets suddenly cascade down in an avalanche over her head. She hadn't laid eyes on this box in a long time. She'd set it in the closet two years ago, unable to look at it but unable to get rid of it.

It was a small photo box she'd been given as a gift. She recalled Harry saying it had taken him a month and at least ten different shops before he found the right colors, something in Gryffindor scarlet and gold to honor their history. Their history. That's what this box held. She didn't know when she sat down on her bed, but she ended up there, staring at the words written in swirling script on the small white placard on the lid. Fred & Hermione. Extensive swirls entwined their names as one was placed over the other. Something to commemorate their future and hold the records of their history, Harry had said.

What a cruel joke life must be playing on her that she would notice this box today. An hour passed. The duster had chased all the dust bunnies away and another load of laundry was beginning itself. She wasn't sure she could handle this. Why should she? Why should she even bother to look at this, just because she'd remembered it was in her closet? There was no need for that.

Breaking what felt like a staring contest with a box, she decided to feed herself and then come back to cleaning. Her stomach had graduated to constant angry growling by now, so some brunch was a good plan.

Three hours later, Hermione was sitting in the back corner of a café two blocks from her flat. Right when she'd been walking to the door and sliding her arms into her favorite black coat, a dark green spine on the bookshelf had grabbed her eye. It was an old text on magical law bought right before the war; she had forgotten all about it. It had been so long since she'd taken a little light reading when she went out. Goodness, it had been so long since she'd even gone out without the purpose of going to work or getting smashed.

So here she was fifty pages shy of the final page and starting in on her third hot cocoa. The rest was mostly conclusion that she could follow up on later, but her eyes were getting tired. She slowly gathered her coat and book. She left a hefty tip for the patient waitress who had asked her maybe a hundred times if she needed anything else and stepped back out into the cool air. With her mind clear and rejuvenated from a long overdue read, she felt ready to take on the rest of the day.

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Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's note: **Thanks for the reviews I have gotten to those of you that gave them, and I hope more of you who have this story on alert will let me know what you think of the story! Please! The only way an author knows if they're doing something well or poorly is if people tell them! This is one of my favorite chapters--it involves some important exposition about Fred and Hermione's relationship. Hope you like it (and if you do/don't, review and tell me!).

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Hermione realized as soon as she hung her coat in her closet that hiding that damned box would have been a better plan than avoiding it. She had nearly forgotten that she'd seen it until now. But there it was, still sitting on her bed. She shook her head, willing herself to walk out of the room. Why couldn't she just slide it back up on the shelf and cover it with a blanket? Or better yet, just get rid of it?

She knew why. There was too much in there to get rid of, no matter how painful the contents. She couldn't fight the need to look any longer. She kicked off her shoes and grabbed the box before she could stop herself. Carrying it into her living room, she grabbed the hot cocoa she'd brought home and placed herself on the couch.

_Fred & Hermione_ glared up at her as she lifted the lid from the box and set it gently aside. Carefully, as if the very touch of the photographs would burn her, she lifted the memories out. These photographs held what had filled her with so much longing over the past years. After two years and several months of trying to drink it all way, trying to ignore the intense void in her heart, Hermione knew it was impossible. These photographs were proof.

She choked back tears as she flipped through them, these images of what she had lost. There was Bill and Fleur's wedding before seventh year. Arthur and Molly looking on as the bride and groom danced. Couples dancing as the wedding band played. Ron giving a drunken toast while his mother tried to drag him away. Hermione and Ginny fighting for the bouquet. Fred making an outlandish proposal after she had caught it. Hermione laughed as she saw this one. That had been the summer when Fred had suddenly been more than just Fred. When he had been tall, handsome, and courteous, opening doors for her and teasing her in a different way. When she'd catch him looking away any time she glanced in his direction.

Most of her seventh year photos were of Ron, Harry, and she at school. In the middle was Christmas at the Burrow. She lifted up an old favorite photo, one that Ginny had snuck without her knowledge. She stood in Ginny's bedroom, where Fred had pulled her to hand her a small gift. She opened it to find the most beautiful necklace, a silver chain with a twisted emerald icicle-shaped gem hanging from it. It was something that had caught her eye at a shop's window in Diagon Alley the last time they'd gone shopping for school supplies. She'd felt so amazed that Fred had even noticed her gazing at it, let alone that he'd actually gotten it for her. She watched as photographic Hermione and Fred hugged. She could still feel how different that hug had felt from any other hug, how she had sunk into him and his arms had embraced her so gently yet so securely.

She pulled out some parchment and glanced at its contents. She had been pleasantly surprised to receive an owl from Fred not long after her to return to school from Christmas break that year. It wasn't long before they had a regular correspondence. Fred would tell her about the crazy new inventions he was working on with George and pretend to be extremely interested in whatever scholarly thing she had mentioned before. She would tell him all about what she was learning in her lectures and ask questions about his inventions. When she had actually begun being interested in what Fred was talking about, really asking him questions about his work and caring about if his inventions worked out, she wasn't quite sure.

And here were the photos of graduation. The ceremony, celebrating with Harry and Ron, the Weasleys and her parents giving hugging them so hard they could not breathe. There was Fred picking her up in a hug and spinning her around. There was Ginny teasing her for falling in love with her brother while the rest of the family had their backs turned.

Through these pictures she watched as both her life and her love progressed. There she was moving into this flat with the help of Fred, George, Harry, Ron and Ginny. She and Ginny sharing looks behind Fred's back while she and Fred shared looks behind everyone else's. George and Ron playing tricks by moving things she had just set down. The whole lot of them sitting on her floor eating take out food and drinking beers while waiting for her furniture to be delivered. She'd told her parents she could easily transfigure something into a sofa set, but they had insisted on purchasing her a luxurious living room set as a graduation and housewarming gift. They'd all gotten quite lit while waiting for the delivery to arrive. That was the night that Fred had finally kissed her, once everyone had left. On the pretense of being too drunk to leave, he'd stayed on the couch as the rest of their friends slowly trickled home. As soon as the door swung shut behind their last friend to leave, it was as if he hadn't had a drop to drink.

She could still feel the tension in her body as he'd closed the space between their bodies. The soft touch of his hand as he'd lifted her chin. She'd fought to keep her eyes open, to look back into his as he smiled down at her. She had been so nervous, so aware of what was happening and yet so unsure of what was going to happen. She had practically frozen as he lowered his face to hers.

But when their lips finally met, her body came alive. She remembered the warmth of his lips and how easily they had melded to her own. Her body had sunk into him as if that was where it belonged. Nothing could have broken her from that moment and that kiss. Oh, how good it had been.

Hermione sighed and wiped some tears from her face before they could fall and ruin the pictures. There were dates with Fred, family dinners at the Burrow. There she was with Harry upon their graduation from Auror training. The celebratory dinner that night where Fred had proposed to her. He'd taken her out to the yard and dropped to one knee under the stars with the ruckus of the Burrow behind them. There was the family reaction, Molly's tears as she hugged Hermione, the men all clapping Fred on the back and giving him drinks. There were picnics, there were gatherings at her flat, there were double dates with George and Angelina. George and Angelina's wedding. Harry and Katie's wedding. Ron and Luna's wedding. Dinners with the newlyweds. Angelina always nagging at Fred to make an honest woman of Hermione.

Hermione lifted the last photo in the box, realizing this was the last photograph she'd ever taken with Fred. They stood in front of the fireplace of the Burrow with the rest of the Weasleys, Harry and Katie included. Things had been getting worse for months, with Death Eater activity hitting its peak and Voldemort's hold on the wizarding world tightening, but Molly insisted on their weekly family dinners regardless. Days before this particular dinner, Aurors had been given the power to use the Killing Curse on Death Eaters. Fred had argued with her the same day, afraid that she was going to get hurt as an Auror. But here they stood amid their family, hands tightly clasped together with nothing but love in their eyes.

Hermione let the picture fall as tears streamed down her cheeks. Looking at these photos she knew she would never have that again. It would hurt her soul too much to love anyone the way she had loved Fred. She picked the picture up again. The look in his eyes then hurt her now more than the hate in his eyes had in Diagon Alley. She had expected that. But she hadn't expected to notice the look on Ginny's face, one she hadn't ever noticed before. Her eyes were sunken and her eyes dark, despite her best efforts to appear happy.

Glancing through the other photos of family gatherings she realized that Ginny's appearance had been that way in many of them. It was shortly after the weddings that she suddenly appeared sullen and unhappy in any photo that she appeared in. To the naked eye, Ginny looked as if she simply had no facial expression, but Hermione knew better. The day after the last photo in the box has been taken, Hermione had sat through a briefing on recent Death Eater activity and been told that her best friend was practically Voldemort's right hand. Hermione had cried that evening until Fred was home from work. She'd been unable to tell him what she'd heard but equally unable to forget it. Worried, he'd cradled her in his arms until she cried herself to sleep.

Hermione began packing photos and letters back into their home. After she'd learned about Ginny's true loyalties, things had only gone downhill. Her only comfort as she kept tabs on her friend's activity for four months was coming home to fall asleep in Fred's arms. Neither of them slept much those months, as things grew worse in the world and they devoted more of their time to fighting the good fight; but every night she went to sleep, knowing that someday it would be better.

It wasn't until May 17 that she knew how wrong she had been. On May 1, as the school year was winding down, Hermione's team had learned of plans to attack Hogwarts. The war had reached a fevered pitch. What was left of the Ministry had been working with members of the Order and recruiting any able-bodied witch and wizard they could for months. En masse they had flocked to Hogwarts, to protect their children and defend against the impending onslaught.

In the mess of things Hermione had lost sight of where she was. Death Eaters came and the battle began, and in the end Harry defeated Voldemort. But somewhere in the middle, she had gotten lost and cornered. In the end she had killed one of her best friends. She had somehow found her way to the Great Hall as the battle ended and collapsed near the head table. She remembered it all too clearly, the moment when Fred had found her laying there, tear-soaked face pressed to the floor.

"_I've been searching for you all over. Thank God you're alive,"_ he had said as he sat next to her. Without any questions he had pulled her into his arms and held her as she cried into his chest. She wasn't sure how long she had sat there, but it ended with the words that haunted her still.

"_Ginny's dead. I killed her, Fred. It was an accident," _she told him, a sob wrenching from deep within her. She told him she was sorry, that she didn't know it was her, but nothing sank in. He had walked out of the school as she cried there on the floor and into the press frenzy outside, facing his family with the knowledge that his fiancée had killed their sister.

Hermione finished repacking the photo box. She stood and wiped her eyes. The corner of a photo poked out from beneath the couch. She bent to pick it up and realized it was the last one she had let fall. Looking into the sullen eyes of that Ginny, she knew she had lost her best friend a long time before she killed her. There was no chance that Hermione could have seen this then, that she could have stopped Ginny. She knew from her later investigations that she had had no hope of ending the hate that had filled her heart.

Hermione set the picture in the box and shut the lid. She carried it into her bedroom and returned it to its home in the closet, pushing it just far enough out of sight. Straightening her back, she looked to her right at her image in her bedroom mirror. With eyes reddened and puffed from crying, she looked a mess. The Hermione in those photos would have been quite ashamed of how she'd turned out.

It was then and there that Hermione made the decision to move on. If she continued to mourn like this, to hold on to what she could never have and could never change, it would kill her. Three years had passed and no amount of crying or drinking had fixed her life. It was time to try something new.

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Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling.


	10. Chapter 10

Two weeks after Hermione's turnaround, Harry almost fainted when she actually accepted an invitation to dinner at his and Katie's house. Katie was just as taken aback when she got his owl post telling her to cook for three. That evening there was good food and good wine as Hermione actually talked and laughed and shared stories.

"Hermione, are you alright? I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but I don't know the last time you actually laughed at something," Harry said to her when Katie went into the kitchen to get dessert.

"Harry, for the first time in years, I am actually alright," she said with a smile. "I think you'll be happy to know I'm moving on. Trying to live my life as it is now. It's difficult to do, but I am done beating myself up."

"That's wonderful. I've noticed that you seem much more invested at work these days. You should have seen the look on Johnson and Avery's faces when you actually conversed with them in the coffee room. I walked in as you walked out. They looked like they'd seen a ghost."

"They probably had," Hermione laughed. "I'm never going to be who I was before, Harry, the happy Hermione of yore, but I am going to try and be a new, pleasant Hermione, at least."

Harry stood up and gave her a hug as Katie brought in a lemon tart fresh from the oven. He gave his wife that look that spouses know, the one that means she'd find out soon enough what was going on and why her husband's friend had suddenly graced them with her presence. More than anything, she was just curious as to why she seemed so happy.

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Upon ending her period of misery, Hermione found herself with an abundance of free time after work. Most weekends she spent time with Harry and Katie or spent hours with her nose in books that she'd forgotten she owned. During the week she would read, but it only took her a couple weeks to catch up on her long forgotten queue of books needing to be read. Some nights she had dinner with Arthur, who had been more supportive than she'd expected when she came clean about her lifestyle, or Harry and Katie if they invited her over.

It was the desperate need for a new way to spend the rest of her evenings that led her to shop at Flourish and Blotts a month after stepping out of rock bottom. After gathering several new books, the sight of Florean Fortescue's was too appetizing to pass up. This was how Hermione found herself a new routine, one that didn't involve any alcohol or self-pity. Each day after work, with a new book in hand, she would venture to Fortescue's and enjoy a sundae or two. For two weeks she did this with great pleasure.

It was the first Tuesday in December when the bookseller at Flourish and Blotts told her she was going to have to start looking harder for new books to sell to Hermione. "Don't worry, everything is new to me, even if I've read it five times," Hermione told her. They discussed the merits of books for a little while before Hermione left with a little novel in hand and made her way down the street. She was comfortably leaning back in her chair on Fortescue's heated patio, fifty pages in and halfway through her sundae, when she heard someone clear their throat.

"You're looking much better."

Hermione froze for a moment before she set her book down carefully, not wanting to lose her page. Every time she came to Diagon Alley, she prayed for no chance encounters with any Weasleys. Raising her eyes, she found an unexpected sight: George Weasley with a pleasant smile on his face.

"George," she said. "Thank you. Been taking care of myself a little better these days."

"You've gained weight. In a good way, I mean," he hastily added. "You looked rather terrible the last time I saw you."

Hermione smiled. It was true that she had whittled down to barely anything with her lack of eating regularly. Takeout food might not be the healthiest of dinners, but when you barely eat it that does not matter much. Having taken up the habit of regular dinners, trips to the ice cream parlor and walking home through London, she was looking and feeling healthier these days.

"Well I suppose that is a compliment. Thank you. I've actually been eating these days. You're looking pretty well yourself. You and Angelina are doing well?"

"Excellent, actually. She's seven months along now."

"That's right, Harry had mentioned she was pregnant. How marvelous! She's handling the pregnancy well then?"

"Well that's actually why I'm here. She owled me at work demanding a sundae immediately. She has been perfectly healthy and happy, but when she craves something it's best not to deprive her. She will wake me up at three o'clock in the morning to get her some cheese and crackers. If I don't oblige right away, there's a great chance of me not sleeping in the bed for the rest of the week. She's not a woman you'd want to make angry. If you thought she was formidable in Quidditch, don't mess with her when she's got a craving."

They both chuckled at this. She felt a tug on her heart with each little laugh. It was so easy to block out the longing she felt for her past, her family and friends, when they weren't around. Ignoring the void that these people had left was much harder when one of them was standing there in front her telling her stories. George noticed as her laughter softened and her eyes met the table again.

"Well, take care of yourself, Hermione. I'm glad to see you doing well," he said. He scolded himself for dragging her out of what had obviously been an interesting book just to end up reminding her of the family life she was no longer a part of. Hermione looked back up and met his eyes. The pain behind them was so visible to him, just as were her efforts were to conceal it. If there was one thing he knew about the woman who had once been a sister to him, it was that she was a proud witch, not one to show her pain easily.

"Thank you, George. I hope things continue to be good for you and Angelina. Please give her my best." Rather than prolong things, George flashed a brief smile and continued into the parlor to order his wife's sundae. Hermione picked her book up, but her eyes were not on the words.

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Hermione was ready to give up on her new routine after Tuesday's encounter until she was sitting in the Burrow the next Sunday, filing Arthur in on the recent happenings of her life.

"George tells me he ran into you at Fortescue's the other day," Arthur commented as he took a bite of the roast he'd made for her. He noticed her shoulders tense as she took a bite.

"Um, yes. We chatted for a moment." George was comfortable telling Arthur that he spoke to her? She knew he said that he'd forgiven her, but it still felt strange. George Weasley saw her as a regular acquaintance. He felt good enough about running into her to mention it to his father. And here she was wanting to change her life around again just to avoid running into him again.

"That's lovely. He seemed quite glad that you two were on speaking terms. I'm quite proud of him. His brothers may still be holding on to old hurt, but he's made the mature decision to let it be."

Hermione nodded and continued to eat. Not wanting to push the subject, Arthur turned the conversation elsewhere. He tried not push Hermione's emotional buttons, but he'd gotten the gears turning in her mind.

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**Author's Note:** Here you go: Small chapter, but an important transition. Thanks so much for the reviews I've gotten so far. I'm glad that so many people are enjoying this and keeping up with it. I promise more updates soon.

Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling.


	11. Chapter 11

That Tuesday Hermione was seated at the same table as always, working on a strawberry banana sundae as she engrossed her in her latest book. George Weasley hesitated as he approached the parlor, wondering if he should avoid interrupting her this time, but had no choice when she raised her head and looked directly at him.

"Hello," she said cheerily as he approached. Was this the same Hermione Granger he'd seen a week ago, eyes full of hurt? From what his dad had told him, she was still harboring grief despite her best efforts to move on. This woman in front of him, she actually seemed happy.

"Hermione," he greeted her with a smile in return. "Pleasure to run into you again. All's well?"

"Quite well, thank you." Moments passed as they stood there, both clearly unsure how to proceed.

"Would you like to join me?" she asked just as he was about to step away.

"That would be nice," he replied, sitting in the chair across from her. He felt uncertain of this. The woman across from him was such a stranger to him, certainly not the Hermione he'd known.

"Are you done with the shop for the day?" she asked.

"Yes, I've left the store for Fred to tend to. I like to leave earlier some days. And you? Seven o'clock on a Tuesday? No plans for the evening?"

"These are my plans, actually. It's much nicer to read here than on the couch in my flat."

"Still a bookworm, I see," George laughed.

"Something's never change," she said. They both smiled. They continued to chat for an hour or so, sharing small talk about work and the current events of the wizarding world. George talked about how well the store was doing, which Hermione was glad to hear. For that short time Hermione forgot that she was talking to a man who was going to be her brother. It was wonderful to sit and chat with him, to forget that they had such history, and to just enjoy his acquaintance. When she had heard Arthur talk about his forgiveness of her, she had realized that she still clung to the notion that he hated her, despite knowing otherwise.

She had left the Burrow Sunday evening determined to try a new approach, to actually live like she had moved on instead of just telling herself so. She could not be happier that she had tried this.

"George, it has been wonderful chatting with you, but I'm afraid I've got to head on home. I've got a few meetings tomorrow that I need to prepare for." Hermione stood and gathered her things.

"It has really been nice, Hermione. Be safe." They parted, both left with the indelible impression that change was in the air. Neither would have imagined that morning when they woke up that they would sit and chat like the friends they had been ever again.

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The next Tuesday she waited for him. She did not really know what she would have done if he hadn't shown up. As he approached Fortescue's she was standing outside the patio area, nervously twirling a shopping bag in her right hand.

"Hello again," he called as he walked toward her. "I never really thought you shopped for anything besides books."

"I'd contradict you, but you're not wrong," she laughed. "It's a Christmas gift for Harry. Even after so many years he loves anything Quidditch, so I got him a little picture for his desk."

"A picture of Quidditch?" he asked as they made their way to order.

"Not just any picture," she said, pulling out a small box from the bag. As she opened it, he saw that it held a wooden frame. Behind the glass, the Gryffindor Quidditch team of Harry's seventh year waved at him. Harry had always been exceptionally proud of how well he'd run that team and how they'd won every game.

"That's quite sweet, Hermione. I didn't realize that they sold that photo these days."

"Oh yes. The Quidditch shop has a whole section devoted to Harry. He tells me they've been after him to endorse some products like whatever the newest broom may be."

"Funny, he never mentioned it. No surprise though. I usually see him with Ron, and Ron is not the biggest fan of talking about the 'good old days.' He's actually quite grumpy most of the time now. But enough about him," he added, noticing her eyes dip to the table at the mention of his brother. "Have you got plans for Christmas?"

"Just dinner with my mum and dad," she said through bites of ice cream. "One of my cousins might be joining us, but that's up for debate. My dad's side of the family is a bit wacky, and my cousin's no exception. We probably won't know if he's actually coming or not until Christmas day, when he decides to pop in for a visit or blow us off for some random adventure he finds."

"Well I certainly can empathize with you there. Angelina's mum is loony. She's over at our flat constantly nagging Angelina to be more prepared for the baby. With a full nursery, loads of toys and clothes and all the baby-proofing charms that exist, I'm not sure how much more prepared a home can be!"

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An hour later, Hermione and George were still at the table, having moved on from crazy families to Muggle technology. Hermione had mentioned that her dad wanted something called an iPod for Christmas, capturing George's fascination.

"You know, I imagine my dad would love something like that. After all these years he's just as fascinated by Muggle contraptions as always. You say it holds music? Without any magic?"

"Yes, it's in a sort of electronic file. It's hard to explain if you've never had any experience with computers. I'm sure Arthur would love to examine one if he managed not to blow it up," she laughed.

George glanced at his watch. It was nearly 8 o'clock, and Angelina wanted him home by 9. If he was going to get in his walk through the city, he'd have to go now.

"It's been lovely Hermione but I'm afraid I must get on home. The missus usually wants me home by 9 o'clock."

"Ah well, I suppose then you ought to get going. Have you got some errands to run?"

"Errands? No, not at all. I just like to take my time getting home. Say, would you like to join me? Your flat is on the way to mine. It would be nice to have company while I walk."

Hermione was about to say no. Eating ice cream with George was one thing, but to walk home with him? She was not sure how far she should take this renewed acquaintance with him. But to give up her walk home? She certainly couldn't say no and then walk in the same direction as him. Weighing her options, she remembered her decision to move past old history. Here in front of her was an acquaintance, a friend even, reaching out to her. What better way to move past your hang-ups then to stop them from ruining a good time with a friend?

"I'd love to. Shall we?"

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As Hermione went to sleep that night, she was glad that she had walked home with George. She had enjoyed their small talk, acting as if they had no history as friends—family even. There were a couple of times when it seemed as though George was on the verge of changing that, but it never happened. She could sense that he wanted to say something, but they only continued to chat about Christmas shopping and baby-proofing until her flat.

"Well goodnight, Ms. Granger," he had said as they walked to her door. "It's been a pleasure keeping your company lately."

"You as well, Mr. Weasley." They shook hands in a bit of an awkward fashion, both unsure of how friendly of a goodbye was appropriate. Hermione sighed as she entered her flat and listened to his footsteps descend the stairs. She really had no idea what she was doing now.

*

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**Author's Note: This is going to be a busy week for me school-wise so it will probably be a few days before I update again. It would be really awesome to get some reviews in the meantime! I really appreciate everyone who's reviewed so far and told me what they think :)**

Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling.


	12. Chapter 12

"I appreciate the advice for the pod eye, by the way," George said as they rounded a corner a week later. "That's not right, what is it?"

"An iPod," Hermione chuckled. She and George were on their way through London after enjoying some ice cream. Hermione was beginning to think this was becoming a regular occurrence, though she wasn't sure if that was good or bad. "And it's no problem. I've become friends with your dad lately and I think he'd really enjoy it. Just make him promise not to tinker with it too much. They are a bit pricy to replace, and you don't want it to become just another destroyed Muggle artifact in his shed."

"Of course, of course," he nodded, well aware of his father's tendency to ruin Muggle technology. "You know, I think it's great that you've been visiting him. Ever since he had that row with Fred about you, he's been so different. I think forgiving you has had almost a healing effect on him. He's much happier these days."

"He and Fred had a row about me?" she asked, concern in her face. She did not want to be the source of anyone's grief any longer.

"Well, yea," he shrugged, noting the worry. "Don't be bothered by it. It was months ago, after you went and explained your side of things to Dad. Fred was just overreacting, feeling betrayed. But Dad set him straight. Told him he needed to reconsider if hating you was really worth the pain it was causing him. Said he ought to take a page from him and learn some forgiveness."

Hermione was silent. How had this conversation suddenly gotten to Fred? She should have just Apparated home, not kept up this strange new façade of a friendship. George grimaced. He had tried to keep it light and simple, to just chat and shoot the breeze, but it was so easy for conversations to grow heavy in a moment.

"Well anyway—"

"How is Fred, now?" Hermione asked, cutting him off. She had no idea what she was doing, continuing down this path. She knew she should change the subject to better things, to anything else really.

"Er… Well, not so great, actually. He's pretty down most of the time." He wanted badly to move the conversation away from this. He had avoided talking to Hermione about his twin for weeks now, trying to avoid hurting her more. He was actually glad to have reacquainted himself with her, and he certainly did not want to ruin it by depressing her.

"Oh… I'm sorry to hear that. I hope he feels better," she said, her voice drifting off. She turned to look at him, to gauge his reaction, but he wasn't there. He had stopped walking and fixated his eyes on her. Hermione knew she shouldn't have asked him about Fred. This was probably strange for him to, being friendly with her while his brothers all hated her.

"He won't feel better, Hermione," George said solemnly as he approached her. "Fred's been down since he saw you in Diagon Alley four months ago. He's been down since he walked away from you three years ago. Everything he does, it's getting himself by. I know you think that he hates you for what happened with Ginny, but he doesn't. He hates that you didn't tell him everything, that you held secrets from him. He'd never tell me, but I'm pretty sure he thinks he could have saved her if you'd opened up to him. We've all thought it at one time or another.

To be frank, I don't even think he hates you for that anymore. It's been three years. I think he was almost better, but seeing you again, it just reopened every hole in his heart that leaving you made. More than anything, he just misses you."

Hermione was taken aback. This had clearly been bothering him for sometime; otherwise, he might not have blurted it out. She stumbled, hand reaching out for stability. He grabbed her hand and held her up. Cursing himself for saying anything, he waited until she stopped wavering.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, I shouldn't have said anything. I've been trying to act like nothing is strange here, like there isn't anything but a friendly acquaintance going on here, but I couldn't anymore." She stared at a point somewhere beyond him for a moment, unable to focus her eyes.

"No," she finally managed to say. "I shouldn't have even brought it up. Erm.. I think I'll just Apparate home now, if you don't mind."

"You shouldn't Apparate like this, you'll splinch an arm or a leg. Let me take you." Without giving her an option he wrapped her arm firmly around his and, after checking for Muggles in view, disappeared.

He was settling her on her couch five seconds later. If he had known that she would be this shaken up, he'd have kept his mouth shut.

"Listen, come to dinner tomorrow. Angelina's making a beef stew and she's been asking me about you these past few weeks. We'd really love to have you over. You can see how big she's gotten."

Hermione stared at him, momentarily unable to speak. He wanted an answer from her. He wanted her to say yes and to be okay, to not be so undone by what he had said. She could see that he was concerned for her. Why was she not answering him?

"Alright," she said, finally willing herself to speak.

*

* * *

"Hermione!" Angelina yelled as George led her into the flat. Hermione stopped dead in her tracks. Angelina Johnson, once one of the fittest girls in school and a bit tomboyish, was now Angelina Weasley, looking ready to pop at eight months and wearing a flowery dress with her hair down to her shoulders. Before Hermione could really brace herself she was being pulled into a tight hug. "I'm so glad you came! I've been nagging at George to invite you over since he told me he had been catching up with you. Please, take your coat off and have a seat! Would you like a drink? We've got whisky, wine, mead, beer, you name it."

"Just a glass of water would be lovely," she said once she found her words. "Oh, I almost forgot, I brought flowers, as a thank you for having me over." She whisked her wand over her hand bag and reached in, pulling out an assorted bouquet. Angelina smiled and took them into the kitchen with her.

"So tell me, Hermione, what are you doing with yourself these days? George says you're still with the Aurors."

"Yes, actually. I'm third in command in the department, just below Harry and Kingsley. Things are pretty slow right now. Not even criminals want to ruin the holidays, it seems. I mostly spend my time reading when I'm not at work."

They were sitting in the kitchen as Angelina's stew simmered. Hermione sipped from the water she'd been given and looked around her. She would never have pegged either of them as very domestic, but here they were living in a cozy flat that they'd really made into a home. Pictures decorated the walls, trophies from Angelina's Quidditch days sat upon the mantle, and various toys of George's were strewn about. It was comfortably cluttered, but not messy. There was even a clock similar to the Burrow family clock about the mantle.

"Your home is really lovely, Angelina," she said as her hostess sipped some water.

"Thank you! You know George teases me all the time about how domestic I've become, but I really love making a house into a home. My mum always made sure that we lived in a home that reflected our family, so I like to do the same. George doesn't necessarily make it easy to keep clean sometimes, with his constant experiments, but he's well aware that the couch is his new bed if he damages anything with explosion. Again."

"I beg your pardon, wife, but that was actually my brother who blew up the kitchen that time," George interjected, giving her a kiss as he returned from changing his clothes. "And besides, you can barely tell that it used to be a little smaller."

The conversation continued easily through dinner as Angelina talked about her plans for the baby once it was born.

"I told George no more experiments in the flat once the baby is born," she told Hermione.

"I told Angelina that she's got nothing to worry about anyway. We're expanding above the shop to give ourselves more testing room for products," he replied.

"Do you know what it's going to be? Boy or girl?" Hermioned asked. The couple shared amused looks at her question.

"Actually," Angelina said with a smirk, "we don't want to know. We want to be surprised. But the doctor said judging by how big I'm getting, it's possible we might get both."

"Twins? Well that's fantastic. Are you sure you can handle two copies of George running around here?"

"I say bring it on!" Angelina laughed. "I handled this one, I'm sure two more can't be so bad!"

*

* * *

"I ought to get going," Hermione finally said, rising up from the couch a few hours later. Her hosts were beginning to look as sleepy as she was feeling. "Thank you again for having me over for dinner. I've really appreciated it."

"Anytime," Angelina said as she walked her to the door. "Listen, George didn't want me to say anything, but I'm quite sorry for offering you a drink when you got here. He told me about your problems, and I hope I didn't seem insensitive to that."

"Oh, don't worry," Hermione said. Of course George had told her about finding her on a bench, pissed out of her mind. She ought to have expected it, since husbands generally do tell their wives things like that. "I'm much better now. Trust me, I'm not offended. You and George have been really gracious hosts, I've really appreciated it."

"Great. I'm so glad you joined us tonight, really. George tells me all about seeing you. I hold you in my heart every day, hoping things are going to work out."

"Thank you, Angelina. That really means a lot to me." The two women hugged and Hermione called out a goodbye to George, who had passed out on the couch. She Apparated home and went to bed. Her mind raced even as she drifted off to sleep. Fred missed her and Angelina and George wanted to be her friend.

Apparently moving on was easier said than done.

*

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**AN: Sorry it's been so long since the last update! School was quite busy and then my spring break came and that was busy too! Hope to see some more reviews! Hope you like it :)**

Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling.


	13. Chapter 13

George Weasley went to work the next morning feeling good. His wife was happy, he was happy, and it was going to be a sunny day. He walked into the back room to begin restocking the floor and immediately ducked as a Skiving Snackbox that hurtled past him. Things being thrown at your head can really put a damper on a good day.

"Blimey, Fred, what are you doing?" he yelled as his brother chucked another box at him.

"What am I doing? The question is what are you doing, George? I saw you the other night after you left work! I was hungry so I was going to grab a bite at the Cauldron, but as I was on my way there I saw the most interesting sight of you sharing some laughs with Hermione Granger over ice cream! And then I go to talk to you about it yesterday, and she's leaving your flat! Are you two chummy now? All's well with George, so it's fine if he pals around with his brother's lying ex-fiance?"

George caught the third box and set it down beside him. Fred's tirade had given him time to get his wand. He quickly cast a binding spell, locking Fred into one of the nearby extra chairs.

"Alright, listen here. I'm only doing this so you won't try and cause me any bodily harm while I talk. You're going to hear me out. I forgave Hermione a year ago. Angelina and I made the decision to remove hatred from our lives before trying to bring a child into the world. I know that you are still hurt by her actions. But I also know that you miss her, and that you still love her. Don't even bother denying it.

"You're not mad at me for hanging out with her, you're mad at me for doing it when you can't bring yourself to."

"Maybe I am, but that still doesn't explain why you were with her!" Fred spat out as George unbound him. "Suddenly best of mates with her?"

"Give it up Fred. It's time to give up hating her. You, Ron, Charlie, Percy, Bill… you all still act like she caused us pain on purpose. But she's just as human as us and just as hurt. I found her on a bus bench maybe two months ago in the middle of Muggle London. She'd drunk herself unconscious. I took her home to find her practically living in squalor, probably one of the messiest flats I've ever been in. Even worse than our first place after school. After talking to Harry I gathered she'd probably been drinking herself stupid for months and just then hit rock bottom. We are not the only ones who were hurt three years ago, and it's time to stop acting like it. I did so by talking to her, and it's one of the best decisions I've made. You've either got to forgive her and move on, or let yourself love her again."

Fuming, Fred stormed past his brother onto the sales floor. The shop opened soon and he had no desire to be around a bunch of loud, cheerful Christmas shoppers right now. He slammed the door behind him, pretending that he couldn't hear his brother still yelling after him.

"You've got to let it go Fred!"

*

* * *

Fred Weasley stormed through Diagon Alley, not really sure where he was going. At nine o'clock on a Thursday morning there wasn't a large crowd of shoppers, but the few early birds stared at him as he passed. He was visibly fuming. Toward the end of the way, out of sight of prying eyes, he ducked into a niche and clung to his chest. His heart beat so hard as if it were going to leave him. Falling back against the brick wall of a store in a small alley, he was sure all of Diagon Alley could hear him breathing.

Even his heart was tired of the anger that filled him. He wasn't sure when he began to cry, but it had been a long time coming. Unable to hold himself up, he sank to the ground, leaning his head back against the brick. Years of hate and anger, of loneliness and hurt poured from his eyes. Why was he even here? Why was he so mad at his twin? He wasn't mad at George; he was mad at what George could be and he could not. Happy.

He cried himself out, leaving nothing inside. He did not know how long he sat there against the brick. He stood up finally, noticing that more and more people were passing by. It must be at least eleven o'clock by now. He began to exit the alley, but something caught his attention. He had been here before. Months ago, he had run from Flourish and Blotts, bewildered by a face he hadn't seen in almost three years. He had followed her. He had said such hateful things. He'd gone to the cemetery, where his brothers had commiserated with him, joined in on his hate.

But he didn't want that commiseration. He knew George was right. He'd walked away from Hermione on May 17 and never thought of her as being hurt like the rest of them. He had only thought of her as the woman who had lied to him, who had made the wrong choice and followed orders instead of talking to her fiancé. The woman who had killed his sister.

"Alright, Fred?" George called out as he returned to the store much later. His brother was knee-deep in boxes to be stocked.

"Alright, George."

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**AN: Well I know this was a bit of a dramatic chapter, but I hope you liked it. More to come soon! Reviews would be awesome! I'm really really excited for the next few chapters - and I think you will like them a lot, especially those of you who have been waiting for more to happen. Maybe if I get some more reviews I could be tempted to post it sooner than next week, which is when I was planning to do it. Thanks for those who have reviewed so far!!  
**

Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling.


	14. Chapter 14

Hermione glanced at her watch. It was ten after seven. George was normally out by seven. He'd probably changed his mind about her. Maybe it had all been a twisted Christmas gift, some human interaction, and now Christmas was past. No more charity friendship for Hermione. She sighed as she turned to go into the ice cream parlor. She'd just enjoy some ice cream by herself then. She'd found a collection of short stories set in the times of Hogwarts' founding that she wanted to get into, anyway.

"I'm sorry I'm late," a voice spoke up behind her. Hermione tensed. Strangers might not know the difference, but she did.

"Fred," she said, her voice soft as she turned to meet him. Frozen in that moment, Hermione wanted desperately to run, to Disapparate and go anywhere but here, but she was trapped by her curiosity. Why was he here? He'd probably seen her and George together and had come to berate her for it. Stay away from my family, he was going to say. You're not allowed to have a relationship with my father and brother anymore. He would remind her why she had been so hesitant to move forward in life, why she should have just gone home after work.

"Could we maybe go somewhere, you and I?" It was unexpected.

"I don't think that's a good idea," she finally said, turning to leave. What was she doing? She had wanted for so long for him to come to her, to look in his eyes and not see hatred. Here he was, asking her for her time, and she was walking away.

"Hermione, please," he called out as she walked away from Fortescue's. The sound of his voice held her back. She loved his voice more than anything. To hear it calling her name again, filled with need, it was too much. She spun around to face him and saw the pleading in his eyes. He really wanted to do this.

She closed the distance between them, placing her hand on his arm gently.

"Alright, then."

*

* * *

Hermione had never been a fan of Side-Along Apparation. She could handle when she was taking herself places, but being pulled along by someone else was much more unpleasant. She gripped the nearest thing and leaned forward for a moment to regain her bearings. The nearest thing that happened to be Fred.

"Wotcher, Hermione, you're a twenty-three year old witch, you ought to be used to that feeling by now," he joked. His laughter died quickly when she stood up with an old familiar glare in her eyes.

"If you recall I've never enjoyed being Apparated by other people," she said curtly as she turned to walk away. She quickly spun around as she remembered why she was here. "Where are we anyway?"

"Near Piccadilly Circus," he said. "There's a little Indian place I like nearby. I was hoping we could grab some dinner and maybe go for a walk in the park?"

"It's a bit cold for a walk in the park, don't you think?" she asked. She let him lead her down the sidewalk, wrapping her arms around her for warmth.

"Hermione," Fred said with a grin as he held he opened the door for her at the entrance of a tiny hole-in-the-wall restaurant, "did you forget that we can do magic?"

At the suggestion of Fred they ordered their food for carry-out so they could eat somewhere with a view. Hermione found herself agreeing to anything at this point. It was surreal, almost out-of-body, to be here in such a casual social situation with him. She heard herself responding to comments he made, saw herself following his lead as they sat and waited for their order. All the while her brain was awash in wonder, begging for a clue as to what was happening here.

"You know it was you who got me into Indian food," Fred said while he paid, pulling her out of her reverie.

"What?"

"You got me into Indian food," he repeated as they headed back into the cold. "Hold on."

*

* * *

""When we moved you into your flat," he said as he went about setting a place for them to sit and eat, "we had Indian food. It was the first time I'd had it." Hermione watched in amazement as he pulled a blanket out of nowhere and cast heating charms around it. "Shall we?" he gestured to the blanket.

Hermione remained standing. She looked like she'd seen a ghost.

"Fred, what the hell is going on?"

"I'm sorry, Hermione." The sincerity in his voice, the simplicity of his statement, grabbed her attention. Had he gone through all this just to apologize?

"You're sorry? The last time we spoke, you berated me for killing your sister, and now you show up and drag me all over London, just to tell me you're sorry? Look, I've finally gotten my life together. I've come to terms with the fact that three years ago you walked away from me. It's been hard, but I did it. If you wanted to apologize for that day in Diagon Alley, you could have just said so, or even sent me an owl."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for dragging you all over London without any warning. I've been thinking so much that I needed to get you alone, somewhere away from the world, in order to do this."

"And what exactly is this that you're doing?" she asked warily.

"I want to make amends. For everything. I saw you with George last week, at Fortescue's and at his flat. I was so incredibly angry. He told me he had forgiven you and that you two were becoming friends again. I was so mad I didn't want to hear anything he had to say about you. But it sunk in, despite my best efforts to ignore that he was right. I have to stop acting like you weren't hurt by the war, by Ginny's death. I've got to be a man about this all and realize that I was wrong to walk away from you that day. I'm just sorry that it took me so long to realize it."

"So long? Fred, it's been three years! The time to realize you shouldn't have walked away from me was three years ago, before you ever did!" Hermione was livid. "The past three years of my life have been absolute hell, and you're sorry? You can't just waltz into my life right when I've finally begun moving on and turn my world upside down again."

Fred was taken aback. He sat on the blanket that he'd laid out. It had been foolish for him to think this would be easy. He had ruined Hermione's life. How could he have expected to just walk back into it and have her welcome him with open arms? Nothing with Hermione had ever been easy. When he had noticed her, she had made him work for her attention. When they began dating, he'd really had to prove himself to her. Dating her hadn't been like dating any other girl. He couldn't rely only on his charm and humor, though she did still appreciate those.

"I know you probably hate me by now," he continued, "and this is all very sudden, but I can't live any longer hating you. I should never have hated you in the first place."

"Fred, I really don't know what to say. I-"

"It's alright. I'll understand if you don't want to forgive me. These past three years I've been a real arse. But I needed you to know that I want to forgive you. After being so angry with George, I cried for so long. And I realized that it was the first time I'd cried about anything in a very long time. I didn't even cry at my mother's funeral. But being so confused, not knowing why I was so angry with you anymore, it just hurt so much. I... I'm sorry, I'm probably wasting your time. You've got every right to be angry with me."

"You're bleeding right I do! I have cried myself to sleep, drank myself to oblivion, and asked myself a million times how to get you back. You don't just get to waltz back into my life on your own terms, no matter how much I may have wanted it," she said.

He waited, and when he heard her finally sit on the blanket next to him, he turned to look at her. Her angry expression had softened just slightly.

"Look, you're not wasting my time. I've wanted nothing more than to hear you forgive me. It's just that… I've spent the last three years regretting every moment that led up to me losing you. Forgiveness isn't easy, and I know you. How am I supposed to believe that after three years of hating me, you've just turned a new page and everything's rosy from here on out?"

Fred reached across the blanket to take her hand.

"Please believe me when I tell you that I'm willing to do what it takes to prove that I'm serious to you. We can even just take things slowly, be friends again. But I really need you in my life, Hermione."

They sat in silence for some time taking in the view. Fred had taken her to the top of a hill overlooking a park, the skyline of London as its backdrop. It seemed as though they had the entire park to themselves, save for a few joggers and visitors to the nearby zoo. Hermione's thoughts were a mess. Through all the hurt, the abandonment, the anger, she could still feel the pull she'd felt so many years ago at Bill and Fleur's wedding as he'd led her onto the dance floor for one last dance; she still remembered how it felt to lean her head on his chest as they stood there swaying to the music, both of them certain that something had changed between them. His brown eyes that crinkled as he smiled so widely still grabbed at her heart. The sound of his voice still turned her to jelly.

Hermione knew she had two options. She could leave and never be in a position for him to leave her again. She would be safe, if lonely. But she never used to play it safe. It had been a quality Fred had admired. Or there was the other option. But really, was it any better to open her heart to a man that had walked away from her?

"I suppose if we're going to be friends again, you could do me a favor and hand me the food," she finally said, a small smile turning the corners of her mouth up.

He handed her the carryout bag and scooted himself closer, smiling that smile that left her weak in the knees every time. A smile no one had seen in quite some time.

"I've really missed you."

Hermione had not woken up that morning expecting to find herself here, on the top of Primrose Hill, enjoying Indian food in company of her best friend again, taking in the view of London and feeling real hope for the first time. But here was where she had found herself.

"I've missed you too."

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**Author's Note: **Hey guys, if you're reading this for the first time, then I hope you enjoyed it! If you're reading it again, then I hope it's because you were curious to how I made some changes to the scene on the hill. In short, Hermione needed a little more of Hermione-ness in here - I found that she was too wishy-washy. So I decided to make her fight a little more what she deserved . Please review and tell me what you think!


	15. Chapter 15

It went well, I presume? Judging by that smile?" George asked his brother as he let him in that evening. "Keep quiet, Angelina's been pretty grumpy today so I told her to get some sleep while I cleaned up for her."

Fred followed him into the kitchen and hopped onto a stool at the counter while he resumed his cleaning of the kitchen.

"It did. Thank you for finally knocking sense into me, even if it was three years too late. We're going to start over, be friends again and see how things go. It's going to be hard, but I think it will be worth it. We can move past Ginny and fall in love again, and maybe even get back to where we were." He was so pleased with himself that he barely registered the look on his brother's face.

"Fred, listen to yourself," George said bitterly. "Move past Ginny? Hermione accepted what happened with Ginny a while ago. Angelina and I, Dad, Hermione, we've all accepted it as a tragic mistake that nobody saw coming or could have stopped. If you still think that it's something you've got to forgive Hermione for, you're not going to get anywhere with her. Until you've accepted that our sister took herself down a dark road, that her death is nobody's fault but her own, you're not going to be able to really be with Hermione."

Fred knew his brother was right, but it was still hard to hear. He'd just wanted to move forward with Hermione, not rehash the past. Ginny was his baby sister. If he acknowledged that she had chosen her own fate, then it meant really acknowledging that she hadn't been the sister he'd loved. That she had really been ready to hand their whole family over to Voldemort for nothing more than a bit of his praise.

He had until Friday until he saw Hermione again. He had three days to make a decision. Was he going to cling to a memory, a lie of his sister, or was he going to accept the truth?

"I've got to go," he said, Disapparating before his brother could say another word.

*

* * *

"Harry," called a voice from the fire. Harry lifted his head to see Fred Weasley's head amidst flames. "Mind if I come through?"

"Of course, Fred," he responded. "You're always welcome here. Something I can do for you?" he asked as Fred brushed soot from his pants.

"Well, actually, I was wondering if you could tell me about Ginny again. I know you've told us before, all about her, but I never really listened. I'd appreciate it if you'd tell me again."

"Fred, are you sure? I know that you and Hermione have reconnected. Do you really want to reopen old wounds? I don't want to tell you anything that would make you change your mind about her. She was really quite ecstatic when we spoke earlier, and I couldn't bear to be the one who ruins it all for her."

"Harry, please. If you really want Hermione to be happy with me, then I need to hear it. I was so pleased with the idea of finally being with her again, of getting back to the way we were, that I don't think I really understood what I was getting myself into. It's not fair to her if I still treat her like the woman that killed my sister and not the one who should be forgiving me."

"If you insist. Let me tell Katie I'll be late to bed. Help yourself to a drink, if you'd like." Harry ran upstairs to his wife and gave her a kiss goodnight before rejoining him on the couch. Solemnly, he told Fred the same story he had told the Weasley family three years ago when they came begging for answers about their lost little girl. He told him about Ginny's relationship with Graham Pritchard, and how he manipulated situations to place Muggles in a poor light. He rehashed Draco Malfoy's description of Ginny's immense disdain for Muggles after working amongst them for a year. By the time she joined the Death Eaters and was under Voldemort's influence, she was already past the point of no return.

"By the time any of us knew who she'd become, we couldn't have stopped her if we'd tried, Fred," he said. Fred nodded. He had gotten what he had come for.

"Thanks, Harry," he said. "I'm sorry I bothered you so late, but you've been a real help."

"Listen, Fred, you know I'm here to help when I can. But if you hurt Hermione again, it will truly break her, and she won't rebound this time. So as someone who thinks of you as a brother, I'm just going to warn you once. Hurt her, and we're done."

"Of course," Fred nodded, extending his hand to his host. "You're a good friend, Harry."

*

* * *

Fred Weasley was on his sofa. His dinner sat in front of him getting colder by the minute. He hadn't accomplished much today. He'd taken the day off from the store, and now he was sitting in his living room, staring at food he had no interest in eating. Everything had seemed so simple to him—go to Fortescue's in place of George, tell Hermione that he forgave her, and move on. Now the question was, had he really forgiven her? What did he really have to move on from? He shook his head and leaned back against the sofa, pushing the cold dinner away with his foot as he propped his legs up on the coffee table.

He wondered what his mother would say to him now. She had always chided him for acting on half-cocked ideas and never thinking things through. When he and George finally got the shop up and running, she had been proud of how much thought they'd put into their business. Ever since he'd been with Hermione and become a successful business owner, he had tried to think things through more and follow his mother's example.

Now here he was, rushing into what he had walked away from three years ago. Then again, he had rushed into walking away then. Fred closed his eyes and sighed. He really had no idea what he was doing.

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**Author's note**: Well if you read the original chapter 15, you'll notice a few different things. Like that last scene. Ch 16 is going to be here soon enough, but maybe it'd get here a little sooner if I get some reviews!


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Hermione could not remember the last time she had felt this nervous. Fred was due at her flat at 8 o'clock, any minute now, and she was sure it still looked a mess even though she'd cleaned it twice. She double-checked herself in the mirror for probably the forty-fifth time in ten minutes. One long shower and eight outfit changes later she had settled on a light blue sweater and dark jeans. Her hair was successfully tamed, loose waves falling over her shoulders instead of the frizzy mane it was naturally.

"I've been doing some thinking," Fred began as soon as he Apparated into her living room. Startled, she stopped fidgeting with her clothes and rushed to greet him.

"Sorry, you've been thinking?" she asked, taking a seat on the couch. If this thinking was bad, she wanted to already be seated when he told her about it.

"Right, I've done a lot of thinking since Tuesday," he continued. He remained standing, his hands stuck in his pockets to keep from fidgeting. "I visited George after we parted, and I told him that I was hopeful we could move past, well, our past. When I said that I was sure we could move past Ginny's death, he informed me that it was just me who needed to move past it. He said I had to accept that you weren't responsible for what happened to Ginny, and if I had any hope of loving you again, I would have to stop thinking of you in that light. It made me realize that even though I have missed you, that I do still love you, I have still thought of you as responsible for killing Ginny. I didn't just blame you for everything, for lying to me and hiding the truth, but I really did think of you as the person who killed her."

Hermione began to feel antsy. She stood up, walking to the side of the room farthest from Fred. She should have known it was too good to be true. Tuesday had been a fluke, and here he had come so quickly to tell her that he wasn't really going to forgive her after all.

"You should leave," she blurted out as she paced behind the couch. "If you're going to tell me you can't forgive me, fine. I promised myself I wasn't going to let you break my heart again. You should just go."

Fred stopped and stared at her in disbelief. Before Hermione realized it, he had crossed the room and placed his arms on her shoulders to stop her from pacing. She hadn't realized that her eyes had filled with tears until she looked up to his face and one fell down her cheek.

"You're not listening to what I'm trying to tell you. I realized that I needed to get closure, and so I went to Harry. I listened as he told me everything he had told us three years ago. He told me how conflicted you both were about your orders to keep Ginny's loyalties a secret. It was hard to hear that your sister really didn't care if you died or not.

"I don't blame you, Hermione," he whispered, wiping her tears away. "It may have taken me three years to realize what you and Harry knew all along, that my sister killed herself with her choices, but I am really seeing it now. I understand now how hard it was for you to be in that position. I shouldn't have expected you to violate your mission for the sake of me, and I should have never blamed you for Ginny's death. I'm just sorry that my stubbornness cost us three years."

Hermione was frozen, staring into his eyes. She had always wanted him to forgive her, but she had only ever dreamed that he might remove all blame.

"Well, you are a Weasley," she finally said. "Who would you be if not for a little stubbornness?"

Fred laughed and pulled her into a hug. They stood in each other's arms, Hermione's body nestled into his. He could see their new future already coming to life before his eyes. He was content in that moment, aside from the fact that she was crying into his shirt.

"Why are you still crying, love?" he asked, tilting his head to look at her. Hermione laughed between cries, pulling her head back to look up at him.

"I'm sorry, I feel foolish for crying. I'm happy, I promise. You nearly gave me a heart attack though, coming in here like that," she said. She pulled her arm from around his torso to wipe the tears from her face. "I've just…I have missed the feeling of your arms holding me so much. When you would hold me as we went to sleep, it was the only thing that made me feel safe during the war."

Fred smiled and brought his hands up to cup her face.

"I'm so sorry then. I took away your feeling of security when you needed it most. I won't do it again," he promised as he leaned down and kissed her forehead. Hermione smiled and resituated her head against his chest. He wasn't sure how long they stood there, holding each other like they might never let go. As the moon grew brighter outside her window, Fred realized that Hermione was falling asleep against him. Silently, he lifted her into his arms. She was too content to protest as he carried her down the hall and laid her on her bed. He would let her sleep now; they could talk more tomorrow. He began to back away, but a sleepy hand held onto his.

"Stay," she murmured, giving his hand a small tug. He couldn't leave her now, he knew that. Quickly removing his shoes, he climbed into the bed and pulled a blanket over their bodies. He wrapped an arm around her body, pulling her in close. It was just right, the way they fit together so comfortably.

* * *

"So you literally just slept with her?" George asked as they prepared the shop for opening. "You two haven't been together in three years, and you just hugged and slept?"

Fred laughed and chucked a small toy at him. Leave it to George to jump right back into the swing of things, being crude and teasing him as if nothing had ever been different.

"To be honest, mate, I don't even know what to do now. I don't think we ought to jump right back to where we had been, but we can't start over like we don't have any history at all. This morning we didn't even kiss goodbye, but it certainly felt like she wanted that. Having your old girlfriend back, it's more confusing than having a completely new one ever was."

"Have you considered a date? A real date, not an apology date. Take her somewhere nice for dinner, like you were supposed to last night. Just go with the flow and see how things progress. If you try and force something or think too hard on it, it won't work out. You've got to let it be, let things happen naturally. Step one, taking her out on a date."

"You always were the smart twin, George."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Well I know it was kind of short but I hope you liked it. Please review! Also I realized that this was in the wrong place (it was as chapter 17 but really was chapter 16). But it's fixed now!


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Hermione received an owl shortly after Fred's conversation with his twin. _Dinner tonight? – F_. She had been in bed still, cozily wrapped in blankets as she remembered the previous evening. _Pick me up at 7. – H_. She sent the small owl back with her reply and smiled. This would be interesting. Would Fred notice if she wore the same outfit as before? She'd barely worn it around her apartment. It never really got to see the outside world.

Don't be silly, Hermione, she told herself. If he was going to take her out, she was going to wear something new and stunning. And she had all day to prepare. She pulled every outfit she could think of from her closet and laid them on her bed. There was the obvious little black dress option, but it seemed too cliché. She had several curve-accenting tops that she could pair with her denim skirt. But that would require tights to keep her legs warm in the cold. Nothing was jumping out at her as the perfect thing to wear.

This was ridiculous. She had dated Fred for years before; he'd probably seen every outfit she owned. It had only taken her eight outfits before she'd picked one last night. Her wardrobe hadn't changed much in the past three years. In fact, most of these clothes hadn't seen the light of day in three years. She only wore the same ten outfits or so to work. How was she supposed to take his breath away with the same old clothes?

* * *

"Harry," she called through the fire. Harry turned from where he stood in his kitchen washing dishes to see who was calling his name. "Is Katie home? I need some help." Hermione had never been very close with Katie, but she was certainly one of the only female friends she knew. And what Hermione needed most right now was someone to help her pick out a stunning outfit—someone who could be objective when she was so overwhelmed with nerves.

"She's in the bath at the moment, what do you need help with? Perhaps I can be of assistance," Harry responded.

"Thanks, Harry, but I need a woman's opinion on clothing right now. I've got a date with Fred tonight. Could you ask her if she could pop over for a bit when she's out?"

"A date, hm? Weren't you two supposed to have dinner last night?"

"Well yes, but that was different. Or at least it felt different. This is a real date, and I really want to look good tonight. So I could really use Katie's help."

"Certainly," he replied. "I'll let her know you Flooed. I'm sure she'd be happy to help. You're beautiful in anything you wear, you know, and Fred knows it too." As soon as the flames were just flames again, Harry sprinted up to interrupt his wife's bath. She and Hermione had been on the verge of becoming great friends during the war, but they never reconnected after the worst was over. He knew that she'd be more than happy to help her out. He proved himself right when he explained the situation to her. It was lucky that Harry was there as Katie almost broke herself jumping out of the bath so quickly.

"Do me a favor, love, tell Hermione I'll be there in twenty minutes. I'm going to pop over and grab Angelina on the way. She'd kill me if I didn't include her," Katie yelled as she dashed into the bedroom to get dressed.

* * *

"Are you sure that this is good?" Hermione asked her friends as she stood before them modeling the latest outfit they had pulled together. After several attempts at combining dresses with sweaters, they had gone with a pants and sweater combination. With dark, figure-hugging jeans and a cream sweater over top a red blouse, she was still unsure that she looked stunning.

"Are you joking? Fred's going to lose his mind when he see's you. You look absolutely gorgeous," Angelina said.

"Just throw on those cute little boots at the bottom of your closet there and you're guaranteed to render him speechless. Weasley men have got a thing for legs," Katie said.

"How do you know what Weasley men are into?" Angelina joked. "You grabbed yourself a Potter."

"Well I'm certainly not an idiot, Angie," she retorted. "Look at the women they've fallen for. You've all got fantastic legs. George nearly lost his mind at my wedding seeing you in the bridesmaid's dress and those heels. Your legs were sky-high that day!"

Hermione laughed while she stared at her reflection. She'd never thought of herself as having amazing legs, but these jeans told her otherwise. Maybe she really could take Fred's breath away in this outfit.

"Oy, missy, you had better finish up if you want to be ready when Fred gets here. It's already six o'clock. Do you need help with your hair?" Angelina called to her as she took a rest on Hermione's bed.

"No, I'm just going to freshen it up. I really liked how I got it last night, very wavy. Thank you two so much for coming to help me out. I would have been sitting around all day worrying and getting nowhere," she thanked them as she stepped into the bathroom to style her hair. A couple swishes of her wand and she had lively, wavy hair yet again.

"Of course, Hermione," Katie said. She straightened Hermione's shirt and brushed a few hairs behind her ear. "That's what friends are for. I'm so glad you asked."

Hermione smiled and sat down on the bed next to Angelina.

"I'm so nervous. I have never wanted anything more than to be with him again," she said. Angelina and Katie smiled at her.

"You've got nothing to worry about, Hermione," Angelina said. "I haven't seen Fred this excited since…well since the last time that he was about to take you on your first date. Besides, you look absolutely gorgeous and you're the best thing that ever happened to Fred. Believe me when I tell you that you have nothing to worry about."

"She's right Hermione," Katie added. "I never told you this, but when I first joined the Order, before Harry and I were together, I always envied you. Fred had this look that he always got when he looked at you. It made me long for someone to look at me that way. That look never went away after the war. He still had that longing look, and something was clearly missing in his life. He never lost that look, Hermione. You have got nothing to worry about."

* * *

**AN:** It took me a while but I realized that this chapter was in the wrong place. But I've finally corrected it :) Please review :)


	18. Chapter 18

_**Chapter 18**_

Hermione was nervous as she waited for Fred. She doubted he would bother with knocking on the door, so she was fully dressed and ready to go by 6:50. She wanted him to get the full effect of her look when he arrived, so it was better to avoid him catching her off guard. She was sitting on her couch, positioned in a way that showed off how great she looked, waiting for him to pop in. She knew it was silly, but it had been a long time since she'd had the chance to elicit a reaction with just the way she looked. The clock above her mantle flipped to 7:01 right as a knock came at her door. Who on earth was going to bother her now?

Fred Weasley, dressed as handsomely as she'd ever seen him, stood in her doorway with a bouquet of lilies in hand, taking in the woman in front of him.

"Fred," she said. "I was expecting you to just pop in."

"You look beautiful," he finally said, once he'd stared at her for a good minute. "These are for you. Still your favorite, I hope."

"Still my favorite," she agreed, taking the flowers into her kitchen. She summoned a vase and filled it with water before setting them near her kitchen window. The sun always rose right through her windows, so they would keep for some time. He knew that she thought he couldn't see her smiling with her back to him, but he knew. She had always loved when he would bring her flowers before.

Pleased with the addition to her décor, which was still quite lacking after several years of living there, Hermione grabbed her coat and looked to Fred. He was the only man who had ever given her flowers.

* * *

Fred Weasley generally thought himself to be a confident man. Through humor and charm he was able to feel at ease in even the most uncomfortable situations. He'd only felt nervous a handful of times in his life, and there was only one person who'd ever made him think twice about anything.

He remembered the moment Hermione had caught his eye at his brother's wedding. At the age of nineteen, he cared more about flirting with Fleur's veela cousins than anything else. Sure, sure, his brother was getting married; that was a big deal, certainly. But veela cousins! He and George had sprung for new robes and were ready to get on with the wedding shenanigans when the bridal party had to gather before the ceremony. They were all as beautiful as he'd ever seen them, his sister and Gabrielle both looking radiant as they descended the stairs. Fleur was a vision that most brides only dreamed of. But as the third bridesmaid had descended from the second floor where they'd been dressing, Fred found himself asking who he was looking at.

This couldn't be the same Hermione he'd teased for so long, the bookish, house-elf liberating know-it-all that he was sure his little brother was going to marry. With brilliant hazelnut locks pinned into an elegant French updo and suddenly curvy body fitted in to a flowing, modestly low-cut golden gown, this could not be that Hermione. This Hermione was a stunning woman who, were it not for the bride's exquisite Veela genes, might have stolen the show. He glanced around to see if any of his brothers were aware of this sudden transformation, but they were all being unbearably nonchalant about the entire scene. Praise for Fleur's wedding dress and excitement over the impending nuptials filled the air, but Fred's head was swimming in turquoise.

"Oy," his twin had whispered, nudging him as they lined up for entering the ceremony. "Get a grip, mate, we've got Veelas to impress!"

Fred had nodded and tried to focus his eyes on the path in front of him. The whole ceremony passed with only a few glances cast in her direction. The reception began and he was led about by his brother to various beautiful women, introduced as the "funny twin" at times and the "smart twin" at others, but he barely heard the words his brother used to describe him.

"You've come a long way from the eleven-year-old I remember on the Hogwarts Express," he spoke softly into her ear as he came up behind her at the butterbeer fountain. He'd finally stolen away from George once he'd gotten distracted with a particularly lovely cousin of Fleur. Hermione whirled around, almost spilling an entire glass of butterbeer on his robes. She giggled tipsily, patting at the few beads of liquid that had reached him.

"Sorry, Fred. What do you mean?" she asked, sipping her drink. It figured. The one line he'd thought of and she hadn't even gotten it.

"Nevermind it. Enjoy yourself, Hermione." He began to walk away, to grab a drink himself and maybe rejoin his twin. Perhaps he'd take a seat and watch the drunken show that was becoming his youngest brother's finest hour.

"Oh Fred, I'm just teasing you," she called to him. "I heard you just fine; I'm only fishing for another compliment. Come on now, take me for a twirl. I like this song."

It wasn't the last time they'd dance together, but it was the time he remembered most fondly. By the end of the night both of them were tipsier than when they'd begun, but in that dance, he only had one thing blurring his thoughts. Her face was gentle with the happiness of the day, a smile spreading all the way to her eyes. For the first time in his life, Fred Weasley was asking himself what to do instead of just doing it.

As they walked through the streets of London now, he found himself in that place again. He knew where they'd come from, but he had not a clue where to go from here. They had enjoyed dinner and talked for hours, even venturing into some Muggle shops near the restaurant. Their conversation had been effortless, as it had been for much of their relationship. They'd talked about anything and everything. Conversing with Hermione was like breathing to him, even after three years without her in his life.

They'd fallen into a comfortable silence. Neither had much to say, and so they walked through the January air, her arm entwined in his as she huddled close against the cold. It had gotten late, nearing midnight as they approached Hermione's flat. He knew they'd reach her flat, and then would come the great question of all first dates, even unusual first dates such as this. When he'd been younger and fresh out of school, a new entrepreneur on the dating market, he'd never considered it a question. He didn't date often, but when he did, it was simple math. If he were attracted to the young woman and didn't care about a second date, he'd accept her offer for coffee and leave in the wee hours of the morning. If he thought they might have something more, he'd hold out until at least the third date to give off the air of a considerate gentleman.

It was different with Hermione. He knew they had something more than physical attraction, but there was still a very strong pull there. They had the same idea here, start dating and take it slowly. Starting where they'd left off would be too strange and difficult. Fred had no idea if spending the night together this soon would change that idea. He cast a side glance at her, hair tucked under a knitted black beret for warmth, gloved fingers holding on to his arm. Was her mind filled with these questions?

* * *

"I really had a lovely evening Fred," she said as they reached her door. "I must admit I was really scared about tonight, so nervous that I had Katie and Angelina here all day helping me get ready. But it's been better than I could have hoped for. You're like an old sweater I haven't worn in a while. Sorry—I know that sounds rather cliché." She shook her head at herself. What was she babbling on about? Did she really just compare him to an old piece of clothing?

"What I meant is—" was all she could get out as she began to explain herself. Fred's mouth pressed against hers and words fell away. The world fell away. No kiss she could remember had felt so wonderful in that moment. Just then, for those few, fleeting seconds when his lips held hers in captivity, nothing lay between their first kiss and then. She leaned her body into him, three years of loneliness seeping from her soul.

"Still fits after so many years?" he whispered as he pulled away.

* * *

He lay in bed for hours that night, his body alive with need. Hermione had barely been able to let go of him, and he had almost turned around and taken her in his arms to carry her to bed. But they both knew, despite their best efforts not to, that they needed to move slowly. Their relationship needed to be about regaining trust and love, about strengthening the bond they had weakened.

Hermione had cursed herself and her damn sensibilities all through the night. Who needed to strengthen bonds? Taking things slowly seemed ridiculous now. She knew she still loved Fred. That had never changed. He may have forgotten he loved her for a while, but he still did. She ought to just Apparate into his flat right that instant, nevermind that it was four in the morning.

After a month of living this way, barely parting at the end of the night to go to their separate beds, Hermione was able to convince Fred that he could spend the night with her. It would be harder to maintain their abstinence, but she desperately needed to fall asleep in his arms again. She was sure that in a few months, they would be fine; then they would take things further. They were getting to know each other again, enjoying each other's company and slowly rebuilding a relationship, she told him. He knew she was right, and so they agreed to continue down the rabbit hole, sexless but sleeping together.

It almost lasted a week. Fred spent six nights at Hermione's flat, holding her in his arms as she drifted off to sleep each night. A week before Valentine's, Hermione had simply had enough. Unlike most decisions, she gave this no second thought.

Fred came to her flat after closing the shop the first Friday in February. "I thought we'd celebrate the day of love a bit early," he said, a wine bottle in one hand and a bouquet of lilies in the other. Hermione barely had time to register her hands as they set down his gifts and began to undress him. Her lips poured her desire into their kisses. Without question he followed suit, hands acting of their own volition as they drew her blouse over her head. Filled to the brim with need, they would not wait another minute. For three years he hadn't felt the warmth of her body. For almost two months she had withheld her desire, her need to feel him inside her again.

They lay curled on her floor hours later, worn, exhausted, and sated beyond their highest hopes. Her head rested upon his chest, listening to his heart beat at it still beat loudly, as if to sound out its exhaustion to her.

"I hope the flat below you wasn't trying to get any sleep," he joked as his eyes drifted shut.

* * *

**AN** - Yay, sex! I'm sure you have all been waiting for it, and now it is here! I realize the updates have been a little spaced apart lately, but I'm a busy woman and unfortunately have real life responsibilities. I also have a bad memory. You know what help remind me to update? Lots and lots and lots of **reviews**. Also chapters 16 & 17 were in the wrong places, but I've corrected that mistake and now the story actually makes sense.


	19. Chapter 19

As morning came, the sun crawled through the window and landed on Hermione's face. It took her a moment to register that she was lying on her floor, naked in Fred's arms. Well, sort of in his arms. Fred was sprawled on his stomach, with one arm slung over her waist and his face pressed against the floor. Hermione chuckled as she slid out from underneath his arm. He could sleep through anything, so she did not bother to be quiet as she moseyed about her apartment. She started a pot of coffee, propped a pillow underneath his head and headed for her shower. Perhaps she'd throw together a stiffness remedy if she had the ingredients. Sleeping on the floor was never a good idea, even if sex on the floor was a great idea.

She began to hear footsteps outside as she rinsed conditioner from her hair. Moments later, the bathroom door opened and Fred pulled back the shower curtain. Hermione laughed when she turned around. Her floorboards had left an imprint on the side of his face.

"What's got you giggling?" he asked groggily as he stepped into the shower.

"It looks like the floor decided you needed a new face," she joked, raising her fingers to gently follow the already fading lines. They began the dance of trying to fit two people in a one-person bath as Fred washed his hair and Hermione rinsed herself off. She reached past the curtain and grabbed her wand, quickly expanding the tub so they could stand with ease. Fred smiled down at her as she watched him rinse his hair out. She loved so much to see his smile.

Every day she was still amazed by how easily they had fallen back into the comfort of each other. Since the night she'd fallen asleep as he held her in her arms, she had had the feeling of being at home in his presence. Now and then, she would become anxious and start to feel as though the ball was about to drop, but then Fred would say something sweet or smile that smile at her, and she would feel secure again. It had been barely more than a month, but she knew that they had found their home in each other for good this time.

"Thinking deep thoughts, love? You've been staring at me a good five minutes now," Fred asked, interrupting her thoughts. She smiled and moved to kiss him.

"Just thinking about how I love you," she said, lowering her voice as she leaned into him. "And how handsome you are."

"That's what I like to hear. You've always known how to wake me up in the mornings," he said, his voice a soft rumble as he grabbed and lifted her into his arms. Pressing her against the wall, he made love to her as the hot shower fell over them. It was the beginning to a very long, active Saturday. They did have some catching up to do, after all.

* * *

Just as it had been so easy to fall back into her relationship with Fred, Hermione found that regaining her friendships with Angelina and Katie was just as easy. The next Monday she left work early and met them at a small café near Angelina's flat.

"So the way I hear things," Angelina began as Hermione joined them in the booth they had chosen near the back of the café, "you haven't been getting much sleep this past weekend."

"You do look a bit peaky. Something keeping you up?" Katie chimed in with a wink.

"I'd ask how you even knew, but it's not as if I wasn't about to tell you all about it anyway," Hermione replied, her cheeks flushing a little despite the familiar situation. She'd been here before, telling her girlfriends all about the most intimate of experiences and dissecting every detail of them. "I swear, we've probably made up for the entire past three years of not shagging in the past two days!"

"Frankly I'm amazed you're still walking," Angelina joked. "Last night, Fred could not stop raving to George about how he'd been shagging non-stop all weekend and how much he loves to shag. He was whispering but I used an old Extendable Ear to hear better. They both thought I'd fallen asleep in the twins' nursery."

They laughed together, aware that boys never changed, even when they were men. They joked and shared stories and gossiped more about Hermione's newly rediscovered, super-charged sex life. It was probably some of the most fun Hermione had had in a long time. Angelina shared pictures of her and George's twin girls, now almost two months old, and Katie talked about her plans with Harry to have a baby in the next year or so.

She was grateful that Harry had found Katie during the war. When they were younger, she'd always thought he'd end up with Ginny, just as soon as he stopped seeing her only as Ron's little sister, but by the time he had, she was already seriously involved with Dean Thomas. When she left Dean for Graham, Harry gave up and refocused his mind on fighting Voldemort. Of course, they say that you always find love when you're not looking for it, and it held true for Harry. He fell for Katie when she joined the Order, but she didn't even pay him mind for the first few months. It wasn't until Angelina clued her in to Harry's affections that they really connected. Since then she'd been his rock, standing strong for him even in the worst moments of his life.

"Well, I've got to get going. Harry's going to start wondering. I did tell him I'd be home about an hour ago," Katie said as the clock struck eight o'clock. "Time does fly. Ladies, always a pleasure. Hermione, I hope things continue to go well with Fred. It'd be a shame if you two hit your peak this weekend. Perhaps things will only go downhill from here, and next thing you know, it's sex once every other week or so for you!" she joked.

"Oh Katie, if only you'd fallen for a Weasley," Angelina quipped before Hermione could open her mouth. "Things don't ever go downhill with those boys."

* * *

**AN:** This was a short and fun chapter - hope you enjoyed it. Please please please review!


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

The cold winter air faded into warm and rainy spring days. Spring became summer, and by July, Fred's flat was only that in name. Slowly his clothes found their way into Hermione's flat and never found their way out. Hermione and Fred took to regular group dinners with George, Angelina, Harry and Katie. Hermione's favorites were dinner at George and Angelina's flat. At six months old, Edaline and Jemma Weasley often provided the entertainment for these dinners. Hermione and Katie would fawn over the two little girls until they exhausted themselves, only then allowing Fred or Harry to even get close enough to give their nieces a hug or kiss.

Hermione had found happiness in this nook of friends, and the misery that her life had once been was just a memory. She was the best of friends with both Katie and Angelina, and her relationship with Fred was just as strong. Every night they would make love until their eyes refused to stay open, and every morning she left her flat in anticipation of seeing him at the end of the day. Fred couldn't tell her enough how happy he was, how much he loved her. She had finally given up on waiting for the ball to drop.

"Harry's birthday is coming up," he said to her one night as they shared dinner alone in her flat. Hermione glanced up at the calendar on the other side of the kitchen. It was two weeks before Harry's birthday. Rather odd for it to be Fred mentioning it first, she thought.

"It is indeed. Did you have something in mind?" she asked through a bite of chicken tikka.

"Actually, Katie does. She stopped by the shop today. She wanted to throw a big party for him, maybe have it at the Burrow, since they're in such a tight neighborhood. She figured we could have a nice outdoor shindig, maybe."

Hermione nodded. Perhaps Katie needed her help with planning. But then she would have come to Hermione instead of going to Fred first. She and Katie were close enough for her to ask for help with Harry's party planning if need be. After all, Harry was her best friend. She would love to be involved with the planning for his birthday party. His large birthday party. At the Burrow.

"So what you're saying is that all your family will be there," Hermione finally gathered. No wonder Katie had spoken to Fred about this first. They were great friends now, but Katie still sometimes felt uncomfortable mentioning when she and Harry spent time with any Weasleys who still bore grudges.

"You've got it, love," he said. Fred set his food aside and leaned forward, focusing on Hermione. "I won't make you go, if you don't want. We can take Harry out for dinner one night, maybe. But Katie really wants you to be a part of Harry's birthday this year."

"That's all well and good, Fred, but how am I supposed to show up at a birthday party where half the guests hate me?" she cried.

"Hermione, please," he said, trying to keep her calm. "I haven't told you this yet, but I've been working on my brothers. Percy, Charlie, Bill… they're all open to the idea of you being in our family again. They're all pretty tired of being angry, too. Percy implied that you would have to earn his trust again, but I pretty much told him to bugger off if he expected to put you through the wringer at all."

"You told your brothers about me? I notice you didn't mention Ron."

"Well, Ron is…"

"You haven't even told him about me, have you? When were you even planning on telling me about any of this?"

"Well, to be honest, no, I haven't told Ron about you. I was actually hoping that having my other brothers on my side first would make talking to Ron a bit easier. Dad's been kind of working on him, not mentioning you directly, but trying to get him to work on his anger in general. Listen, I can understand if you still don't want to go. I should have kept you more in the loop about my brothers. Maybe tried a little harder or sooner to get through to Ron. But I really think this will be good. You just have to believe me. I'll be right there with you the whole time."

Hermione set down her fork, her hand having been suspended over her plate as she listened intently to Fred. He had to be kidding himself.

"I just don't know Fred," she said as she stood up from the meal. She was happy to hear that most of the Weasley family was willing to let her back in, but Ron had been her best friend, and he still hated her. "That sounds like bollocks to me. Honestly, it wasn't easy to let myself trust you again, and now you're telling me that you can't even tell your little brother that you're seeing me again? That's cowardly, Fred Weasley."

Hermione quickly left the room and shut herself in her bedroom. She had been so caught up in being with Fred again that she hadn't given much thought to his family. She saw Arthur and George regularly, and so she had let herself forget that there were other Weasleys that might still hate her. And now she knew that Fred had basically kept her a secret. Worse even, he'd kept it a secret from her that he wasn't keeping her a secret anymore. There was a knock on her bedroom door.

"Hermione, can I come in? I'm sorry." Fred's voice was soft and miserable. He knew he'd been foolish to think that this would have been easy.

"I need some time to think," Hermione said. "I just want to be by myself right now."

"Hermione, please," he pleaded through the door. She listened, not sure if she wanted him to continue pleading with her or to just leave her alone like she had asked. A seemingly endless silence hung in the air while they both lingered, she on her bed staring at the door and he leaning against the door listening for her movement. It wasn't until she heard the loud pop of his Disapparation that she knew what she had been hoping for.

* * *

"Thank you, madam, have a joke-filled day," Verity said to the petite young witch who had been trying to herd four young boys through the store for an hour. The young store clerk returned to the article of the Daily Prophet she had been reading before she'd had to watch out for the havoc that small boys can wreak in a store. It was a slow day for the shop, and her bosses were going about their own business. The little bell above the door rang, and she was a bit surprised to see Hermione walking in through the door.

"Hello Verity, it's been a while," Hermione greeted her. Having worked in the store since it opened, Verity was aware of what happened in her bosses' lives, and so it surprised her how calmly Hermione greeted her. She used to see her all the time bringing lunch to Fred, and then she never saw her again after the war.

"Ms. Granger, it's nice to see you again," she said. "If you're looking for Mr. Weasley, I believe he's in the stockroom."

"Thank you," Hermione said. She was too focused on the conversation she was about to have to notice the way the younger witch stared as she headed into the back of the store.

She quietly entered the empty office. She hesitated in front of the curtain that separated this small managerial space from the stockroom that doubled as a laboratory to test new products. The swish of the curtain startled her as Fred stepped through, his arms filled with Skiving Snackboxes.

"Hermione!" he called. Quickly he set the boxes down on the desk next to him and turned to face her. He wasn't sure if she would welcome a kiss from him or not, given the way they parted the night before. "What are you doing here?"

Fred chided himself mentally for the way he sounded. He had been the one to botch things up, and now it sounded like he was unhappy to see her. Hermione surprised him by closing the space between them and giving him a kiss.

"I didn't actually want you to leave last night," she said quietly. "I just needed to think. Do you think we could grab some lunch? I've got an hour before I've got to be back in the office."

* * *

There was a small café that had just opened down the road from the Leaky Cauldron a few months ago, and so Hermione and Fred grabbed themselves a table by the window. They had walked there from the shop arm in arm. When Hermione slipped her arm through his and leaned into him as they left the store, he felt better. He felt more comfortable about whatever she might say to him when he knew she still wanted to touch him and be next to him. The morning had been torture. He had planned on working with George on some new products, but he kept blowing them up because his mind was elsewhere. George finally relegated him to stocking duty for the day.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out as they sat down. "Before you say anything, just know that I know how much of an idiot I've been." Hermione smiled.

"Thank you," she said as a waitress approached to take their order. Once they'd ordered and the waitress was gone again, Hermione reached across the table and took Fred's hand. "I know that we don't have the most conventional relationship history, and so I understand that it must have been hard for you to tell your brothers that you are seeing me again. It really hurt that you couldn't tell me that, or that you didn't even tell me when you did tell them."

"I know that it was foolish not to tell you, but I guess in a way I thought I was protecting you. I suppose really I was protecting myself. I didn't want you to feel bad for me if it came down to my having to choose."

Hermione sat up straighter and began to pull her hand back. Quickly Fred held it tighter.

"I mean if it came down to me choosing you over them, Hermione, not them over you. I love my brothers but if they weren't able to come to terms with this, I wasn't about to let you go again because of it." He loosened his grip on her hand and hoped that she wouldn't get up and walk away.

They sat in silence for a moment as she gathered her thoughts.

"I would never want you to have to do that, Fred," she said.

"I know, and that's why I didn't tell you that I was talking to them. I didn't want you to think that it was your fault."

"I can forgive you for not telling me about them. I can even understand your logic, even if you were wrong not to say anything. But you still haven't told Ron. And now you want me to see him at Harry's birthday party with no warning and a hundred of Harry's closest friends and family as an audience. I feel rather ambushed, really. If I say no, then I'm letting you and Katie and Harry down, but if I say yes, then I'm just putting myself on the path to slaughter when Ron sees me. You can't really expect him to just see me and let bygones be bygones, can you?"

"I know you're right," he replied as the waitress set their sandwiches down in front of them. He waited a moment for the girl to leave before he continued. "I guess that I was sort of hoping for that. I just don't want to keep living two lives. I want my brothers to forgive you and move past everything and for me to be able to be with you proudly instead of keeping it a secret from them. If you want, I'll talk to Ron before the party. I'll tell him that you'll be there and then if he doesn't want to come, then he doesn't have to."

"I'm not sure that's fair to Ron," she said before taking a bite. "Harry is still his best friend. He should still be there for his birthday party. This is probably a terrible plan, but maybe you shouldn't tell him first. I don't want Harry not to have his friend there because of me. Christ, Fred, you've really put me in a pickle here. I'm damned if you do tell Ron and damned if you don't."

Fred set his sandwich down. He looked up from the plate to face her. Her eyes were not filled with anger like he had expected.

"You're right. I'm sorry, I am. I should have thought more about this."

Hermione sat up straighter in her chair. She wanted to be so angry with him.

"Well, there's no reason that Katie and Harry should suffer for this. I'll send her an owl and help her with what I can. You can tell Ron whatever you think will get him to Harry's party." She paused as Fred relaxed and reached out for her hand. Damn how easily those pleading brown eyes that could melt her heart. She took his hand and gave it a soft caress with her thumb. "And you can make this up to me tonight."

* * *

Hermione found herself on edge every day leading up to Harry's party. Katie had put her in charge of food for the party, and planning for a large gathering was hard enough without the added stress of an impending confrontation. Fred did his best to placate her, knowing it was his fault that she was having a hard time. She never said it aloud, but he knew she was terrified of facing Ron. She and he had been best friends. Fred had even thought they'd end up together when they were younger, until Ron grew close to Luna. He'd always been glad that the quirky girl had caught his brother's eye, since it left Hermione free to catch his eye. He knew that she wanted to be close to Ron again, to be his friend again, but his brother's stubbornness put mules to shame. If he couldn't let the past go, then it was going to make future family events a bit awkward.

Bill and Charlie had assured him that they and their wives would be behind him at the party. Percy, while a bit wary of Hermione, had agreed to give Fred his and Penny's support when it came down to it. The entire Weasley clan, save for Ron, was willing to move on. He had hoped this would have been enough to give Hermione courage for the party, but he knew she was struggling. Unwilling to admit how scared she was, she would bite his head off when he even tried to talk about it.

The day of the party, she went to the Burrow early in the morning to set up the food. Bowls and trays of various party foods filled tables set up in the backyard.

"Good morning, Hermione," Katie chimed as she began hanging decorations along the yard. Hermione grunted in response and returned to the kitchen to prepare some finger sandwiches.

"What's got her knickers in a bunch?" Angelina asked as she brought the girls outside for some air. George and Fred were in the garden doing some last minute degnoming. Fred turned and glared at his sister-in-law. He knew that she could be frank at times, but surely she wasn't oblivious.

"She's probably nervous about the party. Fred told me she was pretty uneasy about seeing Ron again," Katie responded quietly.

Fred, grateful for Katie's response, returned his attention to the task at hand just in time to catch a small gnome kicking him in the shin.

* * *

The party guests began to trickle in around one o'clock, and Hermione was nowhere to be found. Fred wandered through the house and into the backyard, but his girlfriend was missing in action. He uttered greetings to guests as he passed, but they had no chance of catching him in conversation. He was far too distracted to even stop walking. He passed Neville and Hannah Longbottom, catching up with Dean Thomas and his current girlfriend, a young witch that he did not recognize. Neville and Hannah's two little boys, just three and two years old, were fascinated by how small Edaline and Jemma were. Alicia Spinnet and Seamus Finnegan both called hello to him as he passed through the kitchen. But no Hermione.

"So here is where you've been hiding." He was relieved to find her in his old bedroom, lying down with her back to the door. She made a small noise to acknowledge she'd heard him but did not roll over to face him. "Everyone's wondering where you are. Why don't you come down and see them? Harry wants to thank the person responsible for the delicious finger sandwiches."

"Harry hates finger sandwiches," was all she muttered.

"Alright, so I want to thank you then. Hermione," he pulled her shoulder to roll her on her back, "look at me. You've been on edge ever since you've been helping Katie with plans for today, and I understand that. I've done my best to be easy on you, but I can't let you hide up here for the entire party. Harry's your best friend, and I'm sure he wants you down there."

Hermione was silent. She rolled her head to the side, staring past him at the door. Two floors down were thirty old classmates and friends that she had not seen in three years. And if he hadn't arrived yet, Ron would be joining them soon enough. In theory, she was sure she could stand downstairs and mingle and pretend that nothing was different. But she wasn't so sure that she could do that if Ron made a scene.

"Why couldn't we just have had Harry over for a nice, quiet birthday dinner tomorrow night? Just us and him and Katie, that would be have been easy," she finally said, turning her gaze to meet his.

"If we took the easy route, we wouldn't be together again." He reached out to push a strand of hair behind her ear. He would give anything to undo the decisions that had put her in this position, weakened by an old friend's hatred and intimidated by her peers. He knew that it was his fault. If he had been strong enough to face the truth, Hermione would not have had to be alone for so long. But she wasn't alone now, and that was what was important today.

"Come on, Hermione," he said, standing up. He bent down to pick her up, and she reluctantly allowed him to lift her off the bed. As he set her down on her own two feet, she let out a deep breath. Taking his hand, she followed him down the stairs, into the throng of people she had not seen in years. Dean, Lavender, Seamus, Alicia, Hannah, Neville, Ernie… so many old classmates. There was Glenn Jones and Anissa Redding, two of their coworkers. Kingsley, Teddy Lupin, Bill and Fleur, Charlie and his wife Lina, and Percy and Penny were all milling around as Fred led her into the backyard.

"Oy, been wondering when you were going to show up," Bill called from the table where he was packing a plate with food. Before Hermione could even respond, she was engulfed in a hug by Fleur.

"It iz good to see you, 'Ermione," she smiled, kissing her on both cheeks. Hermione smiled in response. Even Percy seemed happy to see her. Hermione saw them all staring at her, smiling and waiting for her to move. Why had she been so nervous about this party, anyway? Harry was clearly having fun, riding his old broom around with a few others while Katie helped Angelina tend to the girls. Finally Hermione stepped forward and joined Penny by the food. The older woman smiled at her and offered her a plate.

"See love, baby steps. This whole day is going to be fine," Fred whispered as they sat in the grass watching an informal game of Quidditch. "I promise you, it will be a good day."

* * *

**AN**: I know updates have been few and far between, sorry! I am studying abroad in Ireland at the moment, so I haven't had much time to post. It's winding down to the end though, so I would love some REVIEWS to tell me what you think!


	21. Chapter 21

***CH 21***

* * *

"Sorry we're late," a familiar voice called from the backdoor. It was only half past two. Hermione had hoped that a few hours might pass before she had to hear that voice. That he might not even show had been a greater hope. She was sitting out of sight of the door, but she knew who had arrived. She listened as the other Weasleys greeted their youngest brother. Harry flew down to say hello. So far she was still undetected. Maybe she could even sneak away still.

"Hello, Hermione," a singsong voice called as a petite blond woman came near. A very pregnant Luna Lovegood plopped herself onto the ground next to Hermione and flashed her a smile. "I expected to see you today. The Grafnots have been quite busy lately, so I knew there might be change. How have you been?"

Hermione was quite taken aback by how easily Luna approached her. On one hand, she should not be surprised at how easily her old friend faced change, but on the other hand she had expected at least a little animosity from Ron's wife. Before she could even respond, the grass crunched and another set of feet came near.

"Bugger, Luna, and here I have been completely discounting all your garble about the Grafnots," Ron said as he looked down at the two women sitting side by side in the grass like old friends.

* * *

"Ron, wait," Fred called as his younger brother stormed through the backyard.

"How long!" Ron yelled, turning to face him. "How long have you been seeing her? And not telling me? How could you, Fred?"

"Since December," Fred replied, inching closer as he spoke. "Ron, please. Let's go inside, we'll talk in private. Please, we need to talk about this."

"This? This is what you meant when you said you had to talk to me today? You went back to the woman who killed our sister and didn't even bother to tell me about it. Where is Dad? How could he have let this happen?"

Party guests began to trickle into the yard, wondering what was causing such a commotion. Most had to jump out of the way when Ron stomped into the house, seeking out his father. He knew his dad would understand. He would tell Ron that this was a crazy mistake of Fred's. He'd set his brother straight.

Arthur was seated in the kitchen, casually drinking tea as though he had been waiting for Ron to do just this. The house was empty now; everyone had gone outside when Ron began yelling. Arthur set his tea down and stood to greet his youngest son. Ron began to explode again, but Arthur just shushed him. He ushered him into the living room and gestured for him to sit.

"I know that you've come in here to inform me that Hermione is here and has somehow corrupted Fred into being with her. You came in to rally me and get me angry. But that's not going to happen. Hermione-don't interrupt Ronald," he said as Ron decided to stand up and start yelling again. "Your family has forgiven Hermione for Ginny's death. It is time that you try to do the same. We all know that it was never really her fault that we lost Ginny—we were mad because we couldn't have saved her. Now, I'm going to have your brother come in. You're going to hear him out. If you hear him and still refuse this, then you can go home. But think very carefully about that choice."

With this Arthur left the room. Ron was flabbergasted. When did his family lose their sense? Was he really going to sit here and listen to why he should ever be in the same room as that liar again? He had half a mind to get his wife and leave. But Fred was his brother. He had the same Weasley stubbornness as himself. This couldn't end well.

Ron sat still while Fred began to speak.

"Ron, I'm sorry that I haven't told you about seeing Hermione. I knew you'd react just like this, and I…well, I was a bit scared that I'd have to choose between you two when I did tell you."

"Well it's clear what choice you would make," Ron said, his voice full of acid.

"Well if you're going to just make it that easy for me, have a nice day, Ron," Fred spat back. "I would never begrudge you the one person you've ever loved, would I? If it came down to it, would you want to choose between your family and Luna? Don't even answer me. I know what you're going to say anyway."

"Do you?" Ron asked, his voice raised. "I would never have to make that choice because my wife would never be a liar or a murderer, now would she?"

"Listen to yourself! You can't even see what we've all accepted! She kept the truth from us to protect us, and she never meant to kill our sister. It was never her fault, Ron, and I've accepted that. I need you to accept it too, as my brother. If you can't, then you can leave, like Dad said."

Ron's face contorted with rage and he stormed out of the house. He took several steps down the walk. He was going to go in the yard, get Luna, and leave. This was absolutely absurd. He never thought his family would behave like this. They were ruining it all—Christmas, holidays, family dinners. How could any of those happen with her there? Ron sat on the front stoop for a minute and pictured it all. He and Luna would have to spend every holiday with her father now, and he wouldn't be able to spend time with his brothers if she was always there. Fred wouldn't want to spend time with him, anyhow.

Fred was still sitting in the same chair when Ron walked back into the room, dejected. He sat across from his older brother and took a deep breath.

"You're right. I hate it, damn you, but you're right. I can't choose. I can't imagine all my Christmas spent with Luna's dad and never seeing you all. So I guess… tell me what happened with you two."

Fred smiled and began the story of the day he saw Hermione in Diagon Alley.

* * *

"Well the house hasn't exploded with Weasley rage, so I suppose that's a good sign," Katie muttered as she sat with her husband in the yard. Everyone had milled about awkwardly for a few moments after Ron's outburst and eventually settled around the yard in small groups. Most were making small talk, avoiding the uncomfortable subject of what was happening inside. When Ron had disappeared inside, Fred had gone in not long after.

Hermione was sitting away from the rest of the party, although it wasn't much of a party anymore. She wanted desperately to go home, to be alone with Fred in her flat away from all the disastrous drama. She had her back to most people, but she could feel their eyes burning holes in it. Suddenly her personal business was party entertainment for everyone in attendance. But none of that mattered when she had no idea what was happening inside. For all she knew, Ron was tearing into Fred and convincing him what a mistake he was making. Or maybe Fred was laying into Ron. Hell, maybe it had gotten physical. It was times like these that made Hermione wish she could see through walls.

"Extendable Ear?" Harry asked, holding one of the devices in his extended hand.

"It's like you read my mind, Harry," she sighed. "But I don't think I should. Fred will tell me what's happening when he comes back outside. Please, don't mind me. You should still try and enjoy your party. After all, 24 only comes once in a lifetime, and Katie put a lot of thought into today."

"I know she did, and believe me, she knows how much I appreciate it. But I don't want you to be sitting all by yourself worrying yourself to death while they sit in there talking about who knows what."

"Looks like I don't have to keep worrying much longer," she said flatly, leaning her head back with an anxious sigh as she saw Fred and Ron emerge from the house.

* * *

From the look on Fred's face, his conversation with his brother hadn't ended well. Hermione stood up quickly. Ron was walking in their direction, a grim expression on his face. Harry instinctively stepped forward, looking to protect her from anything Ron might do. He had always told Ron that he refused to take sides, but he wasn't going to let him hurt Hermione. He almost lunged forward when Ron began to extend his arm, but halted quickly when he saw that Ron was in fact offering his hand to her.

"Hermione," he was very quiet as he addressed her. "I have my reservations, but I'm going to try my best for Fred to get past them. It may take some time." Hermione began to reach out, but paused, looking over Ron's shoulder to Fred. Fred only nodded and gave her a small smile. Reassured, she took Ron's hand in her own and firmly shook it.

"Of course. Thank you Ron. It means a lot to me," she added. She was not going to begrudge him a little time to get past his demons if it meant she could be with Fred free of any worry. The rest of the guests were milling around, shamelessly gawking at their exchange. They awkwardly returned to their own conversations as Hermione and Ron parted and rejoined the party.

As the party wound down hours later, Hermione was resting comfortably against Fred in the grass as they all sat around the yard. Their friends slowly trickled home, doling out excuses of work the next morning or children to tend to. She smiled as she watched Ron and Luna say goodbye to Harry and Katie. She'd heard Luna praising Ron earlier, telling him that she was quite proud of him. It was not a union she would have imagined when they were younger, but the two, despite being quite different, really seemed to fit each other quite well.

They waved goodbye to each other, she and Ron, before the couple departed. They hadn't spoken much during the party, but he hadn't been shooting her nasty looks either. He had seemed tense for most of the evening, but she was certain now that would pass. Hermione was comfortable with taking small steps with Ron. Fred whispered in her ear that things would be better than ever now. She knew that he was right. She could live her life with him with appreciation for where they had been and excitement for where they would go together.

* * *

**AN: **There is only one more chapter to come and that is the epilogue :) Hope to see lots of REVIEWS! Thanks!


	22. Epilogue

**Six Months Later**

"So Hermione, you realize that we'll be expecting some nieces and nephews," Angelina joked as she carried a platter of snacks into her living room. Hermione laughed along with the rest of the women in the room. Without realizing, she moved a hand to cover her stomach. Her wedding was in the morning, and she had planned to tell them all after her honeymoon.

"You aren't!" Katie yelled. She was three months along herself and planning on using some glamour charms to disguise the tiny bump in her bridesmaid's dress. Realizing that she would never be able to lie to them, Hermione grinned sheepishly and took a sip of her lemonade.

"Well I was going to hide it until after the honeymoon, but yes. I'm a few weeks." The room full of women cooed and immediately began hurling questions of names and plans and jokes about doing things in the wrong order. Katie expressed great excitement that their children would be born near the same time and would naturally grow up to be the best of friends. Hannah Longbottom, Luna, Penny, Lina and Fleur Weasley, Anissa Redding from her office, and Lavender Brown, now Finnegan, were all attendance for her hen party, a tame gathering in comparison to the usual standard night of drunken debauchery. Hermione had opted for a girls' night at Angelina's minus the strippers and tacky, phallic party favors she'd read about in her bridal research.

Fred had proposed to her the morning after Harry's almost-disastrous birthday party. As they laid in bed, he began telling her he was tired of waiting, and that he knew when she was still waiting for him outside the Burrow the day before that she was never going anywhere. He admitted that he'd been afraid she would have assumed the worst and left, and that he hadn't been able to bear the thought of losing her again. Hermione had been half-asleep at first, but she woke up immediately when she'd realized what he was saying.

Planning had commenced immediately, and so here she found herself on the eve of her wedding, surrounded by friends. It might have been four years later than she'd planned, but none of that mattered when she thought about finally being married to the man she'd loved since she was seventeen. Her life had maybe taken a bit of a detour, but it was back on track now, and she couldn't be happier.

The wedding went off without a hitch, and Hermione and Fred spent a week on the Greek island of Santorini, spending most of their time in their room with a view of the water. Eight months later Hermione give birth to a little girl named Clara Molly Weasley. In only five years, Hermione gave birth to five more children: Serafina Katherine, Grayson Frederick, Thomas Arthur, and Norah Rosaline and Maggie Jean (twins bound to give Fred a run for his money). Katie and Harry's children Josephine, Jocelyn, Felix and Dominic were good friends to them, as well as George and Angelina's younger children Dayton, Crispin, Rex, and Emmett. Ron and Luna had a few of their own: Landri, Saxen, and Paul.

Ron eventually became close to Hermione again, with a bit of prodding from Luna and Fred. Hermione knew they were finally okay again when he gave her a hug the day that Landri was born. Clara had been born only two months earlier, and he'd been there for her just as she was there for him that day. "This is the happiest day of my life," he said to her as they looked through the nursery window. "I'm glad you're here."

Hermione was grateful every day. She never lied to her children about the darker times in her life, but she knew they were growing up in a better world than she had. They would grow up, fall in love easily, and live lives without the sort of pain and sorrow she had seen. Years later, she watched Grayson fall in love with Jocelyn Potter, and she danced with her husband at Maggie and Dom's wedding. Early into her time at Hogwarts Clara fell for Arnie Longbottom, Neville and Hannah's youngest boy, just as the rest of her children fell for classmates of their own years, some of them children of her own former classmates.

She raised her children to be independent, but they never hesitated to approach their mother for advice. On one particular occasion when Sera came to her with a predicament, an acrimonious quarrel with her boyfriend Cormac Finnegan, the hotheaded son of Seamus and Lavender, Hermione gave her a piece of advice she had given her children countless times. There was nothing more important than loving each other, and if something was in the way of that, then the only thing to do was to set aside your pride and just say that you were sorry.

"It worked for your father and me," she told her, just as she would tell them every time.

* * *

**A/N: **Thank you for reading! I hope everyone enjoyed! I'd love some reviews telling me what you liked about it/what you didn't like. Reviews like that come in handy for future stories. Check the next chapter to see a timeline and a rundown of everyone's kids :)


	23. Appendix A

**Post-epilogue (don't forget to read the epilogue!)  
**

**Appendix A  
**

**Everyone's children, who they marry (including the age differences), and a timeline of their births.**

**(Just for kicks, I wanted to have some closure with what happened after the story ended.)  
**

In the End:

**George and Angelina's Children:**

Edaline Weasley—Benjamin Johnson (Lee Johnson's son, same year at Hogwarts)

Jemma Weasley—Carmichael Brand (nephew of Heidelberg Harriers captain Rudolf Brand, a year ahead of her at Hogwarts)

Dayton Weasley—Jon MacMillan (son of Ernie MacMillan and Susan Bones, same year at Hogwarts)

Crispin Weasley—Mary Ollerton (great-granddaughter of Bob Ollerton, cofounder of Cleansweep Broom Company, two years below him at Hogwarts)

Rex Weasley—Elise Davies (daughter of Roger Davies, one year below him at Hogwarts)

Kendra Weasley—Amos Jenkins (grandson of Joey Jenkins, Chudley Cannons Beater, same year)

Emmett Weasley—Amelia Longbottom (Neville and Hannah's fourth child, a year below him at Hogwarts)

**Fred and Hermione's Children:**

Clara—Arnie Longbottom (same year)

Serafina—Cormac Finnegan (same year)

Grayson—Joceyln Potter (one year ahead of him)

Thomas—Alice Perks (daughter of Sally-Anne Perks, two years below him)

Norah—Henry Smith (son of Zacharias Smith, same year)

Maggie—Dom Potter (same year)

**Ron & Luna's Children:**

Landri —Billy Flinch-Fletchley (Justin Flinch-Fletchley's son, a year ahead of her)

Saxen—Mallory Wood (daughter of Oliver Wood, same year)

Paul—Breeda Lynch (granddaughter of Aidan Lynch, Irish seeker, a year below him)

**Harry & Katie's Children:**

Josephine Potter—Winston Thomas (son of Dean Thomas, same year)

Jocelyn—Grayson Weasley

Felix—Emma Boot (daughter of Terry Boot, same age)

Dominic—Maggie Weasley

* * *

**Timeline:**

**August 1997 **– Fred notices Hermione at Bill & Fleur's wedding

**July 1998 – **George & Angelina wed

**March 1999 **– Harry & Katie wed

**May 2000 – **Ron & Luna wed

**November 2000 – **Fred proposes to Hermione

**May 2001** – Battle of Hogwarts/Ginny's Death

**June 2001 – **Neville & Hannah marry

**January 2002 **– Molly Weasley dies (broken heart)

**August 2002 – **Aldis Longbottom born

**September 2003** – Corby Longbottom born

**February 2004** – Carmichael Brand born

**December 2004 **– Hermione and Fred begin dating again

**January 2005** – Edaline & Jemma Weasley are born

**March 2005** – Benjamin Johnson born

**July 2005** – Harry's party, Ron makes amends, Fred proposes

**September 2005** – Bill Flinch-Fletchley born

**January 2006** – Hermione and Fred wed

**March 2006** – Arnie Longbottom born

**June 2006** – Josephine Potter born

**September 2006** – Clara Weasley, Jon MacMillan born

**November 2006** – Landri & Dayton Weasley born

**December 2006** – Winston Thomas born

**August 2007** – Cormac Finnegan born

**October 2007** – Serafina Weasley born

**February 2008** – Saxen Weasley born

**March 2008** – Crispin Weasley, Mallory Wood born

**May 2008** – Jocelyn Potter born

**March 2009** – Grayson Weasley born

**April 2009** – Rex Weasley & Emma Boot born

**June 2009** – Felix Potter born

**February 2010** – Thomas & Paul Weasley born

**March 2010** – Amos Jenkins born

**May 2010** – Elise Davies & Mary Ollerton born

**July 2010** – Kendra Weasley born

**December 2010** – Dominic Potter born

**January 2011** – Norah & Maggie Weasley born

**May 2011** – Breeda Lynch born

**April 2011** – Henry Smith born

**September 2011** – Emmett Weasley born

**March 2012** – Alice Perks born

**June 2011** – Amelia Longbottom born


End file.
